


Maraas kata

by FoxNonny



Series: (Un)Certain Crossroads [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BDSM, Biting, I'm gonna throw more tags on the individual chapters, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marking, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rope Bondage, let's call it a honeymoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20173936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxNonny/pseuds/FoxNonny
Summary: After a rough first year together, the Iron Bull and Mahanon Lavellan finally get some time alone... together. Mahanon has an idea for how to celebrate.A companion piece to "Ghilan'him Banal'vhen (The Path That Leads Astray)," set between part three and four (so, spoilers, but can be read as a standalone).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TO SAY THAT THIS GOT OUT OF HAND WOULD BE AN UNDERSTATEMENT. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SHORT FUN PWP BEFORE PART FOUR AND IT'S. LONG. SO WHOOPS I GUESS. At a certain point you just gotta throw your hands up in the air and accept that you can't write smut without 10,000 words of feelings first. 
> 
> I will be doing tags on individual chapters in the preview notes, mostly because I have an idea of how Chapter 2 is gonna go but I'm not... sure. What I can say is that this fic WILL CONTAIN THE FOLLOWING:
> 
> \- long exhaustive conversations about relationships and consent  
\- BDSM dom/sub dynamics  
\- orgasm delay  
\- bondage  
\- flogging (in chapter two)   
\- biting/drawing blood, permanent marking (in chapter two, with discussions about it in chapter one)  
\- subdrop/recovery  
\- these two are so in love it's disgusting, the DLC  
\- poking gentle fun at common pwp fic tropes
> 
> If none of this is your tea and crumpets, please feel free to click away now. There's a reason why I kept this separate from the main fic because with the biting and the marking and the blood and such, it might be too spicy for some audiences, so viewer discretion strongly advised!
> 
> That say for those who stick around, please enjoy part one of the fruits of my labour. My labour fruits? Nope, nope, not that.
> 
> Also if you're just here for the smut and haven't read the long fic, THAT'S OKAY! LET ME CATCH YOU UP:
> 
> \- Mahanon joins Bull's Chargers a few years before Inquisition  
\- Bull and Mahanon fall in love but Bull is still with the Qun so it's complicated  
\- After some shenanigans they confess their feelings but decide to keep things on the DL so Bull doesn't get in trouble with the Ben Hassrath  
\- Bull once threatened to charge Mahanon a copper for every time he apologizes unnecessarily, and it's a point of banter between them (Mahanon has never once paid Bull back in actual physical coppers)
> 
> AND NOW YOU'RE CAUGHT UP, ENJOY

It's not hard to tell when there's something on Mahanon's mind. 

In fact, it's so damn obvious that if Mahanon were any other person and Bull took the moanings of men at bars about their lovers being "passive aggressive" seriously, Bull would think the elf does it on purpose. When there's something really niggling at him, Mahanon will drift off more often, a little pensive frown on his face, sharp teeth worrying at his lower lip. He'll fiddle with things; a stray thread, his hair, his clothes, _Bull's_ clothes. Once he got himself so worked up about the Charger's accounts during a long ride through the Frostback foothills that when they all dismounted they found Mahanon had, entirely without thinking, riddled his poor and patient horse's mane with little nervous braids. 

But Mahanon doesn't do these things on purpose. He doesn't telegraph his thoughts with the hope that someone will ask him what's on his mind. He always seems entirely nonplussed (and impressed) when Bull uses his Ben Hassrath powers of observation to deduce that an elf tying endless knots in fishing line for no reason is likely not an elf entirely at ease. 

And so it is tonight, back in one of their favourite haunts in Lydes. Everyone is drinking and playing cards and Mahanon is... _fiddling._ With a stack of dice, specifically. Rolling them, stacking them into little towers, knocking them over, balancing them-

Bull allows this for a good half hour before he gently - but _very _firmly - takes Mahanon's hands in his own and tugs them away from the dice.

"Thank fuck," Rocky mutters uncharitably. Of everyone, the dwarf has the least amount of patience for Mahanon's nervous habits. 

"Oh," Mahanon says, looking from the dice to his hands and back. "Sorry, I wasn't being annoying, was I?" 

"Seventeen coppers," Bull murmurs, and Mahanon's ears twitch. All he wants to do right now is pull his anxious little elf into his lap and wrap his arms tight around him, but... fuck, it's still not safe for that. Not in public. One day, maybe, but not yet. He can't help but risk a gentle kiss to Mahanon's curls, however. "Something on your mind, _kadan_?"

Mahanon squeezes Bull's hands, eyes crinkling happily at the name - still so fucking responsive to easy affection. But the elf hesitates nonetheless and responds, entirely unconvincingly, "Er. Not really, I suppose." 

Well. 

Bull watches Mahanon closely, trying to decide where this fine line is set; whether Mahanon is uncomfortable with sharing what's on his mind, or is uncomfortable with _where_ he's sharing it. Whether Bull should leave it lie, or if it's worth a little more prodding. 

There's colour in Mahanon's cheeks, but no worried crease in his brow, no anxious tug at the corners of his full mouth. He doesn't pull away from Bull but instead leans in, their joined hands slipping under the table, knees touching. Bull suspects Mahanon wants to climb into Bull's lap about as badly as Bull wants him to, no matter whoever might be watching. 

But it's the ears that really give Bull the best indication of Mahanon's mood. They flick, maybe a bit embarrassed or rattled to have been caught in his thoughts, but they do not press back into that low, uncertain state when Mahanon is truly anxious. 

So. Maybe the elf can stand a little prodding, then. 

Bull bides his time, patient and meticulous. He doesn't ask when they get to their room and Mahanon immediately casts a silencing spell before grabbing Bull by his chest harness and balancing up on his toes for a kiss. He doesn't ask when he has Mahanon pinned by his slim wrists to the wall, whispering all kinds of dirty promises into those long ears until Mahanon is gasping and begging his name like a prayer and a curse all at once. 

No, Bull waits until they've left a trail of discarded clothing all the way to the ragged bed, waits until they're lying tangled up together in that sweet lull following a good fuck, sated but not entirely spent, resting with the unspoken desire for more once they've got their wind back. Bull loves this part, the slick warmth of their sweaty bodies pressed close together, Mahanon lying along Bull's front with his arms folded across Bull's broad chest, tracing absent patterns over Bull's skin with a fingertip and pressing an occasional kiss to his lips, his throat, his collarbone. They're both deliciously disgusting right now, and when Bull buries his nose in Mahanon's damp curls he can smell himself on his _kadan_ and fuck, it's _good._ So fucking good.

Mahanon's even purring a little, in that self-conscious quiet way he does when he's still too awake and aware not to care. It's a fucking victory, in Bull's mind - it took months before Mahanon was comfortable slipping back into old Sliabh habits around Bull, still caught up in Lavellan customs. Bull's starting to parse out the many different types of purrs an elf can produce - a content sleepy purr, long and loud and relaxed; an anxious self-soothing purr, quiet and quick and breathy; a purr meant to calm or comfort someone else, a forceful determined hum. 

This purr, well, Bull likes to think it's just for him - this gentle little rumble, something Bull feels more than he hears. 

Bull strokes Mahanon's hair, smiling. "Is my _kadan_ having a good night?"

"Mm," Mahanon murmurs, cuddling closer. "Beds... beds are nice."

"Like you would know," Bull teases, sitting up. Mahanon grumbles about having to move until Bull scoops him up into his arms, letting the elf curl up in his lap like a contented cat. "You always wind up sleeping on top of me anyway."

"I've told you," Mahanon says, tucking his curly head under Bull's chin. "You're very warm. You wouldn't want me to get cold now, would you?" 

"Nice to know I could be replaced with a hot water bottle at a moment's notice," Bull says, and Mahanon laughs, tilting his head to brush his lips against Bull's chin. 

"I don't know," Mahanon murmurs. "I can think of a few other tasks for you in bed that a hot water bottle might not be able to do."

"Sassy elf," Bull says, capturing Mahanon's lips for a long kiss. 

Mahanon's breath hitches, needy and wanting as Bull deepens the kiss. Bull bends over the elf so Mahanon's weight is almost entirely resting on Bull's arms, trusting him not to let him fall. It's an easy way to shift the balance of power, and it's worth it for how sweetly Mahanon surrenders to it, relaxing back into Bull's embrace and arching into Bull's touch. 

"You comfy, _kadan_?" Bull murmurs against Mahanon's lips. 

"_Mm_."

"In a good place? Feeling safe and cozy?"

Mahanon cracks open a suspicious eye at Bull, watching him narrowly. "...Mm?" 

"Just curious," Bull says, nuzzling under Mahanon's pointed chin to mouth at his throat, grinning as Mahanon squirms in lap. _So easy to tease, so damn sensitive._ "Thought maybe we could talk about whatever's been wrapping your head up in knots recently."

Mahanon groans, falling dramatically limp in Bull's arms. Bull takes advantage of this to nip at Mahanon's jaw, the elf shuddering against him. "You - _fuck_, you never play fair." 

"I play to _win_, kadan," Bull says, taking a handful of Mahanon's curls and keeping his head pulled back with a sharp tug. Mahanon gasps, arched back over Bull's arm and trapped in place, leaving the long line of his throat vulnerable to Bull's teasing bites and kisses. "If you really don't wanna tell me, you know your way out. Otherwise, I'm gonna keep teasing you until you start talking." 

"Absolutely - _shit_, fuck, not _fucking _fair," Mahanon complains, squirming and twisting in Bull's grip - but really, not fighting very hard to escape, even as Bull nibbles along his thudding pulse point, licking just under his ear, catching smooth skin between his teeth and pinching until Mahanon squeaks and shivers, gripping Bull's arms tightly in his trembling hands. "You - you couldn't just _leave this lie_?"

"Maybe I'm curious," Bull murmurs into Mahanon's pointed ear, grinning at the strangled gasp this elicits. _Elves_. "Maybe I wanna know what my beautiful _kadan_ is thinking about."

Mahanon makes a very small noise at the compliment, covering his face with a hand. "D-damn it, _fine. _Fine! Alright, just - _Creators_, you're a menace." 

Bull immediately releases Mahanon's hair and settles back again, wrapping his arms tight around Mahanon and kissing his hair, his brow, smoothing his hands over the spots he teased to soothe the skin. "Such a good boy. No, don't hide your pretty face, _kadan_, let me see you." 

Mahanon drops his hands with obvious effort, looking embarrassed, and shy, but clearly pleased with the praise. "It's - it's just something I've been... I just didn't know how to go about bringing it _up_, but it's a - fuck. Bedroom matter." 

Bull raises an eyebrow. Mahanon's shy about plenty of things, but rarely these days is he shy about anything to do with, as the elf put it, "bedroom matters." They've had extensive talks about different methods and instruments and areas of exploration with few blushes from Mahanon's end, more bright-eyed bordering on ferocious curiosity. 

But Mahanon truly does look awkward and uncertain, and that just won't do for this kind of conversation. So Bull takes Mahanon's wrists in his hands to keep the elf from hiding again and kisses him deeply, touching his forehead to Mahanon's.

"I love you," Bull says, and Mahanon breathes in sharply, pressing closer. "You never have to be embarrassed about asking for anything, or suggesting anything. Not with me. Promise. You're my _kadan._ I wanna make sure I'm taking care of you."

"_Vhenan_," Mahanon murmurs, melting into Bull. 

Their lips meet, and it's far too tempting to sink into this easy kiss, let it deepen into something more necessary, more urgent, but Bull pulls away after a breath and takes Mahanon's face in his hands, watching him expectantly. 

Mahanon puts his hands over Bull's with a reluctant little huff and says, almost whispering, "Alright, well, I thought... if you wanted, that is, but I thought you could - I want you to bite me." 

Bull blinks. "Bite you - more? Like, more often-?"

"No, no _vhenan_, I mean-" Mahanon shifts in Bull's lap, straddling his hips and putting a hand on Bull's face, the other on his shoulder, looking up at Bull with those large, earnest eyes. "I want you to _bite _me, Bull. As hard as you want. Deep enough to draw blood, deep enough to - mark me, really _mark_ me. As yours."

Bull's a bit of a slow riser when it comes to getting hard. Usually. He's got a sizeable cock, he likes to take his time, it's a good way to pace out an evening - gives him a leisurely amount of time to tease climax after climax out of Mahanon, and makes it easier to edge Mahanon too without going crazy with need himself. 

So Bull and Mahanon both glance down in surprised bemusement as Bull's cock _jumps_ at Mahanon's words, the implications and visuals slamming home with the word "yours" and bringing Bull from half-mast to almost painfully hard in an unexpected instance. 

"Oh," Mahanon says, as Bull groans. "Well, that's encouraging."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Bull says, his voice strained, and he's really not sure if he's trying to say this to Mahanon or himself. It doesn't help that they both smell like sex, and with Mahanon straddling him and asking him so fucking sweetly- "Shit, hold on, I'm sorry _kadan_, could you - we should cool off before talking about this, fuck."

Mahanon nods and disentangles himself from Bull. It's not the first time they've had to pull back before getting carried away, and Mahanon's quite familiar with the procedure. He retreats to the end of the bed, biting his lip. "Should I, er, clean up?"

Bull tries not to sigh as he rolls himself off the mattress and gets to his feet. It's tempting to trust in a little space and time, but as long as that scent is still lingering in the air and Mahanon is still naked, flushed and messy - no, Bull can't think of much else aside from jumping right back into bed and devouring the elf, giving him everything he's asking for without talking it through first. "Yeah." 

Mahanon waves a hand, and the effect is immediate - that delicious sweat-soaked scent almost entirely disappears, leaving them both clean and dry. It's harder to get the smell out of the sheets without a thorough wash, but it's enough that Bull can breathe without every lungful going straight to his cock. 

Bull pulls on a pair of loose trousers as Mahanon slips into a simple wrap tunic, his preferred bedclothes. It doesn't hide much, in all honesty, but it's enough that by the time Bull sits back down again his fervour has cooled to a point where he can think straight. 

"I'm s-" Mahanon starts, covering with an unconvincing little cough when Bull turns to raise an eyebrow at him. "I just mean - I should have chosen a better time-"

"I asked," Bull says, keeping his hands firmly at his side, no matter how badly he wants to reach across and reassure his _kadan_ with a touch. "In fact, I asked pretty fuckin' adamantly. We've negotiated shit in that state before, you couldn't have known I'd react like that." 

"Well..." Mahanon says, trailing off and looking very guilty indeed. 

Bull leans back against the headboard, folding his arms. "'Well?'"

Mahanon makes a sort of garbled noise, but manages to come out with, "You know how I read stuff?"

Bull stares at Mahanon. "Uh huh."

"But you can't believe _everything _you read-"

"Uh huh."

"-especially in, er, certain types of literature-"

"Uh huh."

"-especially given how humans - they get a bit imaginative, and-"

"_Kadan._" 

"-look, all I'm saying is that the, er, 'lusty qunari lover conquers their partner and marks them in a fit of passion' is a popular trope in a lot of disreputable, terrible stories that I happen to be quite fond of," Mahanon says, and he's fiddling again - folding and unfolding the corner of one of the bedsheets, absent-minded and fidgety. "And it's usually described as sort of a driving internal instinct, and I didn't _think that_, I promise, I know that marking and getting a bit more intense with the teeth is not a qunari-specific fetish or something. All I'm saying is that I - should have thought this through better, and I _am_ sorry."

Because Bull is a good man, but not a particularly nice one, he lets Mahanon sit there and squirm for a long five seconds before saying, "Eighteen coppers." 

"_Ugh,_" Mahanon groans, flopping face-first into the sheets. "Menace." 

"I'm curious now, though, what do humans say about us in these terrible books you read?"

"Oh, you know," Mahanon says, rolling onto his side and propping his face up on his hand. "Qunari may _seem_ cold and stoic, but only because they only go into heat at certain times of the year, at which point their lust becomes insatiable, et cetera et cetera."

"_Once a year?_ Fuck, I'm sure the _tamassrans_ would love that. Make it all nice and easy to schedule."

"Don't worry, elves are often painted with a similar brush in that respect," Mahanon says, eyes glinting in the low light as he grins at Bull. "There's also a popular theory that the base of a Qunari's cock engorges upon penetration, keeping one bound up inside their lover for - well, sometimes hours on end, depending." 

Bull barks a laugh, and Mahanon joins in with his quiet giggles. "Fuck, who would believe that shit?"

"Who indeed," Mahanon snickers, but his eyes slide away from Bull.

Bull sits up. "_Kadan._"

"_Vhenan._"

"Tell me you didn't think - that first night we fucked, _tell me_ you didn't think I'd be stuck inside you for hours."

"I didn't!" Mahanon exclaims, but relents under Bull's piercing eye. "Not- not _entirely_, at least - stop laughing!"

"That's the funniest fucking thing I've ever heard," Bull says, wheezing between gales of laughter. "Is that why you looked so surprised when-" 

Mahanon's aim is true, and Bull is abruptly cut off with a pillow to the face. 

It's tempting, far too tempting, to tackle Mahanon into the sheets and wrestle him down, maybe tickle him until he's flushed and breathless with laughter and begging for mercy, but that... that would lead to other things, and there's still shit to talk out between them. 

So instead Bull lobs the pillow back at Mahanon with a chuckle, and forces himself to relax back, no matter how bright-eyed and mischievous and tempting Mahanon looks. 

Because fuck, Bull really does want to sink his teeth into Mahanon. He likes to see the marks he leaves on the elf as much as he enjoys making them, and the idea of really _claiming_ Mahanon as his, doing something deliciously forbidden in the process... 

"Your books aren't entirely incorrect," Bull says, grinning as Mahanon's ears perk up at this. "Not about swelling dicks or anything, but some qunari really do get into the whole biting thing. It's a kind of inside joke for members of the Qun who speak to outsiders - anytime any _bas_ start getting ideas, we freak 'em out by telling them they'll have to wear armour to survive the ordeal, or that we have cannibalistic tendencies."

"I imagine that backfires from time to time," Mahanon says, raising a brow. 

"Not everyone's as open-minded as you, _kadan_," Bull says. "You're a visionary. A philosopher. A paragon of your kind." 

"Elves?"

"Bottoms."

Bull catches the pillow this time before it hits him in the face, and tucks it behind his head. "I'm confiscating this."

"Bully."

"Brat."

Mahanon grins, showing sharp teeth. "So, tell me more about this whole 'qunari biting thing.'"

"Well, that's just it," Bull says, stretching, speaking in the most casual tone he can muster. "It's a qunari thing, sort of, but not really a _Qunari_ thing."

Mahanon frowns. "Capital 'Q' on the second?"

"That's right. See, that kind of shit is a sexual bonding activity, yeah? But Qunari don't bond sexually. Tamassrans are happy to take care of whatever needs come up when you go to them within reason, but they're not about to let you do anything permanent. If you need to bite something, they'll give you a bite stick."

"Makes sense," Mahanon says slowly. He frowns. "But there are qunari who mark each other?"

"Uh huh," Bull says. "From what I hear, it's a pretty popular practice among Tal Vashoth."

Mahanon sits up, his freckled face creasing in guilt. "Shit, I'm sorry, I should have thought-"

"Nineteen."

"_Bull_." 

"I mean it," Bull says softly. "I'm not... comfortable with being Tal Vashoth just yet, you know that. But I promised you that between you and the Qun, I'd choose you."

"And that's well and fine," Mahanon says, reaching forward to touch Bull and visibly swallowing when Bull puts up a hand, pulling back with effort. "But if you don't want-" 

"Believe me," Bull says, his voice a rumbling growl. "_I want._"

Mahanon shivers, gripping the sheets.

"But there are other things to consider," Bull says, determined to keep his head clear for this. "A mark like the one you're asking for might really be permanent, _kadan_."

"I know," Mahanon says. "I'm prepared for that, I... I _want _that."

"Maybe you do now," Bull says. "But things could change-"

"Do you think things will change?" Mahanon asks, and while the question is a practical one, Bull can hear that thin thread of fear in Mahanon's voice. That buried anxiety of being left behind. 

"You're my _kadan_," Bull says seriously. "I choose that every day. I love you, and no, I don't see that changing." Mahanon relaxes. "But part of why I know that is because I've had a bit more experience in this area than you."

Mahanon's eyes narrow at that. "Oh?"

"I'm older than you," Bull says. "I've seen more of the world than you have, I've had more partners than you - I'm just laying out the facts, _kadan_."

"By all means," Mahanon says coolly, his ears flicking. "I wasn't aware I was speaking to a weathered expert in the field of romantic relationships."

"Relationships in general - _sex_ in general-"

"Which is not the same thing and you know it."

"Look," Bull says, raising his hands. "All I'm saying is... one day, you might wake up next to a beat-up old merc, and maybe you'll want something more for yourself. Something better."

Mahanon stares at Bull. "Do you really believe that? _Creators_, that I might... _outgrow_ you?"

"You're young-"

"So are you!"

"-and maybe one day-"

"_Katoh._"

Bull stops short. 

Mahanon looks away from Bull, breathing deeply, sparks winding through his hair as he drums his fingertips against the mattress. Breathes again.

"You're angry," Bull says gently.

"No," Mahanon says, then scowls. "Yes. I'm trying not to take your lack of faith personally."

"It's not a lack of faith-"

"It _feels_ like it, damn it," Mahanon says, meeting Bull's gaze with steely eyes. They soften as Mahanon adds quietly, "You're not the only one with fears, you know."

Bull aches to pull Mahanon into his arms to reassure him, but instead asks, "What sort of fears?"

"_Mythal'enaste_, Bull, you know most of them by now. But I suppose..." Mahanon blows a breath out through his nose. "You fear I might wake up one day and - fuck, I can't even entertain the thought. Well, what if you wake up one day and-" Mahanon clenches his jaw, rubbing a hand over his face. "Sometimes I worry you might - get bored of me. Alright? If we're sharing anxieties."

Bull almost laughs. Not because it's remotely funny, but because the thought is so utterly _implausible._ "Bored? _Kadan,_ how the fuck could I ever find you boring?"

"How could a man who's travelled the length of several continents and, as you were quick to remind me earlier, has experienced a full range of sexual and interpersonal adventures find a scrawny elf who likes maths and books more than most people boring?" Mahanon says dryly. "I have no idea, truly." 

"_Kadan_," Bull says again, firmly, and Mahanon looks away. "You're not fucking boring. I'm a real tough guy to surprise, and you manage to find new ways to surprise me nearly every day."

"But what if I run out of ways to surprise you, _vhenan_?" Mahanon asks quietly, his eyes on the bedspread. 

"For one thing, I don't think that's fucking possible," Bull says. "And for another I love _knowing_ you, _kadan._ You're interesting as fuck to me, and I love you. I can't imagine that ever changing, no matter what else does."

Mahanon tilts his head, considering Bull's words. "So you're saying that this fear I'm experiencing, though valid, has no impact on your feelings for me and how they might shift over the coming years?"

"I-" Bull stops and scowls. "Stop that."

"Asking a fair question?"

"Being clever, and - and drawing false comparisons. It's not the same thing."

"Why?" Mahanon challenges, lifting his chin. "You find it inconceivable that you might wake up a few years down the road and want something more exciting in your life. _I _find it inconceivable that I might wake up lying next to a man who has shown me care, compassion, and endless freedom, without even _mentioning_ that said man is seven feet tall and draws the eyes of every man, woman, and otherwise within sight and is fucking _incredible_ in bed, and decide that _maybe I could do better._"

Bull sighs. "It's just something to consider."

"Not to me," says Mahanon. "And even if it were, which it _isn't_, being marked by a set of qunari teeth might be a good way to weed out the weak-willed amongst potential future lovers. It would show them the standard they'd need to live up to." 

Bull laughs at that despite himself. "Well, I can't argue with that."

"Nor should you." Mahanon's gaze softens. "I mean it, _vhenan._ I'm yours, for as long as you'll have me." 

Bull smiles. Fuck, he wants to believe that so damn badly. 

But he trusts and believes, at the very least, that Mahanon believes it. And for now... well, for now, that's more than enough for him. Maybe over time he'll start to believe it too. 

"Alright, then," Bull says, quickly holding up a hand as Mahanon straightens eagerly. "But not tonight. That shit's going to be intense. You'll wanna be all the way down before I start sinking my teeth into you, believe me. Give me some time to plan this out, yeah?"

Mahanon eyes light up. "I'm looking forward to it."

"My tough little _kadan_," Bull says fondly. "Taking everything I give you and asking for more." 

"Always," Mahanon says heatedly, and Bull can tell the elf is looking for more here and now.

Bull waits a few torturously long seconds, watching Mahanon sit patiently at the end of the bed even as his cheeks start to flush in anticipation, squirming a little under Bull's steady gaze. Even now, even after nearly a year of sharing a bed, Mahanon still reacts so sweetly to being observed by Bull. Bull knows he has the great privilege of bedding a lover who can be undone by a look.

Finally, Bull says, "You want me to touch you now?"

Mahanon nods again, hands flexing in the sheets. 

Bull opens his arms and Mahanon is there in an instant, straddling Bull's lap and leaning up to kiss Bull eagerly, hungrily. Bull growls into the kiss, wrapping his arms tight around his _kadan_ \- even if it's not tonight, the idea of what they're planning to do stokes an almost feverish need in Bull, and he's waited damn long enough to sate it.

Bull undoes the tie securing Mahanon's wrap with a sharp yank and tugs the sleeves halfway down to Mahanon's elbows, quickly binding Mahanon's wrists behind his back with the sash. As far as bindings go, it's not Bull's finest work, but it achieves the desired result - Mahanon's hands are secured behind him, his arms pulled back, and bless the elf, he's not wearing underclothes. 

Mahanon presses himself against Bull, kissing his mouth, his chin, his throat, anywhere he can reach with a moaning purr. 

"Cute," Bull murmurs, grinning as Mahanon rubs himself off on Bull with a quiet whine. The elf is already hard and desperate, but fuck, so is Bull. Still, Bull gives Mahanon's ass a hard pinch, delighting in Mahanon's indignant yelp. "You think I've forgotten that you were being a sassy little elf earlier?" 

"I wasn't-" Another pinch, and Mahanon breaks off into another startled squawk. "_Bull!_" 

"You know I don't mind when my _kadan_ starts getting ornery with me," Bull murmurs, lacing his fingers through Mahanon's hair and getting a firm grip on his curls as he continues to tease Mahanon's bottom with pinches until the elf is squirming to escape him. "Just means I have to work harder to earn your surrender, hmm?"

"I'll be good, promise-"

"Can't let you develop bad habits," Bull says sweetly, kissing Mahanon's nose as he pinches the back of Mahanon's thigh. The elf bares his sharp teeth with a growl. "Now, that's not very nice." 

"_You-_" Mahanon buries his face in Bull's shoulder with a strangled noise and a hard jerk as Bull pinches him again, then says, "Five coppers!"

"Hmm?"

Mahanon lifts his face, breathing heavily, adorably flushed. "Instead of teasing me tonight, add five coppers to my total."

"Oh, you don't want me to tease you?"

Mahanon squirms again with a hiss, trapped in Bull's grip and his makeshift bindings. "I want you to fuck me."

"I see." Bull pretends to take his time considering it, drumming the tips of his fingers against the back of Mahanon's thigh, knowing full well that Mahanon's ticklish there and enjoying watching Mahanon shift and struggle not to squirm away from him. "Say please."

Mahanon presses forward again, his bare chest rubbing up against Bull's, his hard length trapped between them. His voice is breathless and desperate as he whines, "_Please_, Bull... _please_ fuck me. I need you, _vhenan_, _please_."

Bull groans his approval, capturing Mahanon's mouth with his own for a deep kiss. "Fuck, how can I say no when you beg so sweetly, _kadan?_" 

"_Vhenan_," Mahanon whispers again. 

It takes some negotiating, but Bull manages to get his trousers off with Mahanon still straddling his lap and kissing him, even sinking his sharp little teeth in Bull's shoulder. Bull groans as he reaches over to the nightstand where his jar of oil waits, still half-open, and knocks the lid the rest of the way off before coating his fingers.

Despite their cool-down, Mahanon is still worked open enough that it doesn't take long for Bull to prep him again, much to their combined relief. He's still a bit tight, but between Bull's own hot desire coursing through him and Mahanon's needy begging in his ear, it's not very long until Bull is turning Mahanon and bending him over, rising up on his knees behind the elf. He's careful as he presses his cock into Mahanon with plenty of oil and slow, gentle thrusts, but - _fuck,_ it's good, so tight and hot and _good_. He gives Mahanon time to adjust, gripping the barest edge of his self control by his fingertips as Mahanon squirms and whimpers under him, struggling to press back against Bull and take him deeper.

"_Please_," Mahanon gasps again, twisting helplessly in his bindings. "Please, please - more, _please-_"

"Okay," Bull grits out, giving in and thrusting deep into Mahanon. The grateful, needy sound Mahanon makes has Bull curling his toes, and he knows he's not going to last long at this rate. "Alright, _kadan_, whatever you need. I've got you."

It takes a significant amount of effort on Bull's part as he's sunk deliciously deep in Mahanon, rutting hard while the elf cries out beneath him, not to do as Mahanon has asked and bury his teeth in Mahanon's flesh, clamp down hard enough to break skin, to mark, to _claim._ It's not the right moment, they're not prepared, no matter how much both of them want it. But Bull thinks about it, and even thinking about it is enough to send him crashing over the edge of his own climax far quicker than usual, gritting his teeth hard enough that he finds himself wishing for a bite stick as he spills into Mahanon with a snarl.

It's good, it's always good, but this bright burst of pleasure really knocks his head for a spin and steals his breath from him. Even so, Bull has enough wherewithal left to him to reach around and finish Mahanon off with a few quick, firm strokes. Bull holds him close as Mahanon gasps and comes hard, squeezing deliciously tight around Bull's spent cock. 

Clean up is quick and haphazard, but they're hardly aiming for perfection. Bull gathers Mahanon up and wraps them both tight in the blankets, revelling in the weight of Mahanon in his arms, Mahanon's breath warm against his throat, the scent of them both tangled up together.

"Love you," Mahanon murmurs with effort, sleepy and sated. He presses closer. "I love you, I love you..."

"Love you too," Bull says, kissing Mahanon's damp brow. "Fuck, I love you. If you're not careful, I might not ever let you go." 

"_Good_," Mahanon whispers with feeling. 

-

It takes about a month before the opportunity presents itself.

A month, placing them in that sweet golden time between late summer and early fall, where hot sticky days become warm afternoons and evenings have a slight touch of a cool breeze. They're headed for Montsimmard: while the presence of the nearby Circle isn't exactly ideal for avoiding templars, it does mean that there's a significant library in town. 

Bull's been meaning to give the Chargers a good long break. A week in civilization with a lake nearby and plenty of ways to relax seems as good a vacation as any, and Bull knows Mahanon will appreciate having a well-stocked library close at hand despite the risk.

Between his Ben Hassrath duties and his work with the Chargers, Bull knows a few higher-ups in Montsimmard who owe him a favour or two. He sends a letter off a week before they arrive with a few requests. 

The Chargers arrive in Montsimmard just before noon at the end of an easy week of travelling. It was decided the night before to camp early instead of pressing on to town, allowing everyone a lazy re-introduction to civilization and a long afternoon ahead of them. 

"Stables, baths, then straight to the Log," Krem declares as they dismount from their horses outside the town limits, rescuing packs and preparing to hand them off for the week. The Rotlog, despite the name, is one of the more luxurious merc inns Montsimmard has to offer, and the Chargers are well-known there. "Maybe hit up the Siren's Call for the evening? I hear Talisha is back in town."

"If Tallie's in she'll be all booked up," Rocky grunts sourly. "S'what happens when you make a name for yourself."

"She'll make an exception for Krem, no doubt," Dalish says, casting Rocky a sweet grin. "Strange how bookings can rearrange themselves when a _handsome_ man comes to call."

"Nah, it's Grim she's sweet on," Skinner says. "Maybe they could share-?"

Grim and Krem make frighteningly similar noises of disgust as the rest of the Chargers laugh.

"You all have fun," Bull says with a wave. He slings an easy arm around Mahanon's waist, grinning as the elf topples into his side with a startled noise. "If you need anything, we'll be up at the Lakeview, but for fuck's sake try not to need anything."

Predictably, the Chargers respond to this with a chorus of wolf whistles and rude noises - save Mahanon, who regards Bull with bright curiosity as they stable their horses and see the Chargers off. 

"The _Lakeview?" _Mahanon asks once the Chargers are out of earshot, keeping in step with Bull as they make their way up the cobblestone street of the merchant's quarter of Montsimmard and ignoring the peddlers hawking their wares with practised focus. "Isn't that-" 

"The fuck-off fancy trader's inn? Yep." Bull glances over to see Mahanon squinting slightly, a pensive little frown between his brows, clearly calculating the costs. Bull nudges him. "I got it set up on a _massive_ discount, no need to start crunching numbers. We're on vacation. Figured it would be nice to spend some time away from the boys... just the two of us." 

Mahanon bites back a shy grin at this, but he's obviously pleased. What he says aloud is, "There are women amongst those 'boys' you know."

"'Boys' can be a gender neutral term."

"By definition-"

Bull turns and stoops, pulling Mahanon up by the straps of his pack to interrupt him with a deep kiss. Reckless, utterly reckless, and likely to cause a scandal in the middle of a busy thoroughfare as busy Orlesians stop to gawk at the massive qunari merc passionately embracing his Dalish lover (and another _man,_ no less) in the middle of the street.

But it's worth it, for how Mahanon throws his arms around Bull's neck and kisses him back, leaning up on his toes for more. Worth it, for the sound of Mahanon's laughter as they break apart, colour high in his cheeks and deep affection in his stormy eyes as they continue on towards the inn, ignoring the stares and Orlesian mutterings with, once again, practised focus. 

-

Bull is halfway into their suite when he realizes Mahanon is still stuck in the doorway. 

He turns, and it's impossible not to grin at Mahanon's expression - wide-eyed and slack-jawed, balancing on the threshold as if held back by an invisible barrier.

"Bit of a step-up from our usual, huh?" Bull says.

"It's..." Mahanon blinks a few times, clearly at a loss for words. "Are you sure we're allowed in here?"

It's stupidly grand in a way that only a true Orlesian architect could achieve - wide open spaces with tall ceilings and a rich oak flooring. The walls are all soft yellow plaster with white and gold accents, with wide glass windows thrown open to allow a cool breeze off the lake to drift through the chamber. There's even a deep, wide bath set in the corner with proper piping; no need to call up for hot water. Interesting jars and tins are littered around the marble tiling of the bathing area, likely filled with scents and soaps of all sorts. 

The bed, of course, is the centrepiece. Enormous enough that two qunari could lie perfectly comfortable side by side with room to spare, with a plush maroon rug set beneath it. There's a fireplace, a few pillows and chairs cast about for seating, a table for dining, everything scented with roses and fresh laundry smells. 

Mahanon is still staring, still trying to take it all in. 

Bull puts his bags aside and returns to the doorway, sweeps Mahanon up into his arms - packs, weapons, and all - and carries the stunned elf into the room, tugging the door closed behind them. 

"'Course we're allowed in," Bull says cheerfully, as Mahanon predictably hides his face in his hands. "Did a favour for the guy who owns this place about two years back. He likes to keep me happy, and traders are an eclectic sort, so no one's gonna get uppity about a qunari and an elf taking up residence in here." 

He deposits Mahanon on the bed, stealing the elf's luggage from him as Mahanon settles back and digs his fingers into the blankets, testing the mattress with a little bounce.

"You're going to lose me in here," Mahanon warns, eyeing the size of the bed. "_Creators_, one would need a mount to get from one end of it to the other in any kind of respectable time." 

"Well," says Bull, putting Mahanon's things aside and spying an easy opening. "If you're looking for something to ride..."

Mahanon rolls his eyes at Bull, but does not protest being tackled into mattress by his enthusiastic qunari lover.

Their lips meet eagerly, still wearing all the dust and sweat of the road and not caring an ounce about anything other than one another's touch. Bull can taste Mahanon's hunger in his kiss, the way he wraps his legs around Bull's waist and arches against him, gripping Bull's horns to pull him closer. 

It's been a while - too long, really, since they've had such time and space for themselves. There's only so much they can get away with on the road (though what they can do, they certainly _do_, and they bear the brunt of the Chargers' teasing and complaining if they're caught out with humour, if little grace), and the small, creaking beds and thin walls of the typical roadside inns are not much better. There's a need for this, from time to time - space and solitude. Being alone, together.

Neither Bull nor Mahanon were raised on luxury, nor were they raised with the concept of "home" existing in a single place. But sometimes Bull wonders if it wouldn't be nice to have some sort of steady refuge, somewhere - a stable place to return to, maybe once or twice a season, with certain comforts and the kind of privacy that lends itself to deeper intimacy...

It's a strange fucking thought, but Bull's thinking it. He's been thinking a lot of strange things, since meeting Mahanon. It's all still terrifyingly new, but there's this entire world of dreams and possibilities now, all coming into reach the moment he started to believe, even the slightest amount, that Mahanon was his to keep. 

But Bull's never been one for hopes bleeding into expectations. Here and now, Mahanon's warm mouth is on his, sharp little teeth gently closing on Bull's lower lip, and Bull grins to feel that Mahanon is already growing hard against him. 

Mahanon tries to roll them both over, but Bull pins him down, biting at Mahanon's ear. 

"Cute," Bull murmurs, as Mahanon grumbles and squirms under him. "So cute, thinking you're gonna top today." 

"Going for the ears is-" Mahanon makes a strangled noise as Bull nibbles along the point, catching it between his teeth when Mahanon's ears flick and he tries to pull away. "What if I want to pin _your_ wrists to the bed and kiss you silly?" 

"We could wrestle for it," Bull suggests, and Mahanon shivers under him. There are few quicker ways to get them both hot and needy than a quick wrestle - Mahanon plays to win and loves to lose, a combination that works quite well for the both of them. "But I've got some plans lined up for your approval, if you're willing to hear me out." 

Mahanon frowns up at Bull, flushed and needy, his chest heaving against his travelling leathers. "These plans... don't involve either of us attaining any kind of satisfaction within the next five minutes, do they?"

"Where would be the fun in that?"

Mahanon groans and tries for a deeply irritated scowl. "You are absolutely trying to kill me."

"Only a little bit," Bull says, kissing Mahanon's cheek. He releases Mahanon and sits up, willing his own arousal to cool. "You know the Orlesians call it '_la petite mort'_? 'A little death' - when you come so hard your head stops working for a moment. That's what I'm aiming for tonight." 

"With plenty of suffering between here and there, I take it," Mahanon sighs, pushing himself up and pouting at Bull. He leans in close, slipping a hand between Bull's thighs and kissing Bull's shoulder. "I don't suppose I can convince you to take me now?"

Bull catches Mahanon's hands and, with reluctant effort, pins them to either side of Mahanon's hips with a low chuckle. There's something fucking special in all of this, something Bull loves about getting to see this passionate side of quiet, shy Mahanon, knowing how to tease it out of him. He'll catch men's eyes following Mahanon from time to time and all he can think when it happens is that those strangers really have no idea what Mahanon's desire actually looks like, and Bull _does._

Bull may have doubts and fears about the future, but this... he can do this. He knows Mahanon wants him. And he knows he can give Mahanon what he's looking for; what he needs. All else aside, it's a heady thing, to serve and to serve well. 

"Hear me out first," Bull murmurs against Mahanon's lips. "Then you can try to seduce me into changing my mind." 

Mahanon looks meaningfully around the room, his gaze returning to Bull's with a raised eyebrow. "You do come up with some pretty wonderful ideas." He kisses Bull, then tucks in close under Bull's chin. "Thank you for this, by the way. It's already just... perfect. If you have plans that involve me thanking you in creative ways, I'm happy to hear them." 

"Such a sweet _kadan_," Bull says softly, stroking a knuckle along Mahanon's pointed chin. "Almost makes me feel bad, given how hard I plan to work you tonight."

Mahanon makes a tight, needy noise at that. "You know I'm always up for a challenge."

"Oh, I know," Bull says. He takes Mahanon's face in his hands, taking a moment to savour the anticipation in Mahanon's large eyes. "You remember a while back we had that... conversation? About marking?"

Mahanon's breath catches, his eyes flaring wide. He nods eagerly. "Are you saying-?"

"I'm saying, if you're still-" 

"I'm _absolutely _still-"

"-then I have everything in place for us to do that tonight," Bull finishes. He laughs, touching his forehead to Mahanon's. "Your face! I'm talking about biting you hard enough to scar, and you look so fucking happy about it."

"I _am_ so fucking happy about it," Mahanon says breathlessly, beaming from ear to ear. He takes Bull's face and kisses him hard, grateful and needy all at once and still smiling. "Fuck - fuck, anything you want from me for this to happen, _anything_, you have it. I'll do it."

"Mm, keep that energy up," Bull says. "You're gonna need it. I'm gonna make you earn my teeth in you, _kadan_." 

Mahanon swallows hard. "Tell me what you want me to do." 

The elf's voice is soft, his stormy eyes determined. Already on his way down for Bull, placing trust and control in Bull's hands. 

Bull turns his head slightly and brushes Mahanon's wrist with his lips. "There are some private bathing chambers in the east wing. I've already booked one for you - no attendants, just a nice quiet space. There'll be some food and the usual fancy Orlesian soaps and scents. Bring a book, take your time, relax." Bull smiles. "You can think about what I'm gonna do to you when you get back - you can even touch yourself if you want, but you don't get to come. No matter how much you might want to, no matter how desperate you get. Understand?" 

Mahanon squirms, making a face. This kind of torment is particularly effective for Mahanon, Bull knows; the elf climaxes easily and often. Making Mahanon wait and sit in his desire for hours makes for a very desperate lover, and Mahanon will need that desperation tonight to get through Bull's plans. "Is there anything you want me to be wearing when I come back?"

"Anything that makes you feel pretty," Bull says easily, and Mahanon flushes. "You won't be wearing it for long. Oh, and this."

Bull releases Mahanon's hands and walks over to their packs, rustling through his bags a bit longer than necessary - always good to build the anticipation. 

Sure enough, Mahanon is gripping the bedsheets and eyeing Bull with heated apprehension when the qunari finally turns around. Mahanon's eyes fall on the object in his hand and widen incredulously.

"Like I said, take your time," Bull says cheerfully, closing the distance between them and pressing a large glass plug into a stunned Mahanon's hands. "I mean it. No hurting yourself. Slow and careful, yeah? And like I said, no coming."

"You can't be serious," Mahanon says weakly. "Without-? Bull, _Creators_, I don't know if I have that kind of control..."

"I know you do," Bull says, kissing Mahanon's brow. "I know you can do this for me. You're my good boy." 

Mahanon puts a hand over his face, eyeing the plug in his palm with trepidation. "If - if I fuck up, will we - will you call off tonight?"

"Absolutely not," Bull says, and Mahanon blows out a hefty sigh of relief. "It'll just take longer, and I'll have to bring out your favourite little friend."

Mahanon looks up sharply, utterly aghast. "You fucking wouldn't."

"I fucking would." 

Mahanon makes an utterly distressed sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl, shaking his head. "I'm in love with an evil, wicked sadist. I am. _Mythal'enaste._" 

"Aw, come on _kadan_, the Tingler's not that bad," Bull says, utterly enjoying Mahanon's responding scowl. "It's a sex toy, it's magic... what's not to love?"

"If you're so fond of the damn thing, _you_ try wearing it," Mahanon mutters, shuddering. "I thought I was going to fucking _die_ last time, Andruil preserve me."

"Careful, you're making me want to break it out for tonight just to watch you squirm," Bull says. "That's your little stick for the evening, alright? You work that plug into yourself, you don't come until I say, and I don't bring out the Tingler." 

"I'm going to find that thing and bury it somewhere you'll never find it," Mahanon threatens sourly. 

Bull doesn't blame him - given Mahanon's easy nature and stamina, a cock ring that's magically spelled to hum and arouse while preventing the wearer from achieving orgasm presents something of a nightmare scenario for the poor elf. Bull's only used it on Mahanon twice now, making for a few very memorable evenings with plenty of cuddles and praise afterwards to keep Mahanon from murdering Bull. It makes for an effective disciplinary tool when Mahanon's in a mood to test Bull; hard to maintain a sharp tongue and sassy attitude when you're begging and bargaining for release.

Mahanon sighs, turning the glass plug over in his hands. "Alright, I'll - fuck. Figure out how to shove this thing up my ass while keeping myself together, shall I?"

"No shoving," Bull warns, but presses his lips to Mahanon's brow. "My good _kadan._ When you come back I'll have everything laid out for your approval before we start. Any questions or requests?" 

"Watchword is _katoh_, _durgen_ is pause," Mahanon says, and Bull nods. Mahanon smiles, all playful dread falling away. "Thank you, _vhenan_. This is... this is what you want too, yes?"

"This is what I want," Bull says seriously. He folds Mahanon into his arms. "You're who I want. Every hour, every day. I can't fucking wait to take care of you tonight."

"You'll have everything from me," Mahanon whispers. "Everything, I promise. I'll give you everything."

Bull smiles. "Ah, _kadan_. You already do."

-

Bull has the room ready a half hour before he hears a familiar knock at the door. Grinning, Bull puts his book aside and crosses the room to answer.

"Have a nice bath?" Bull asks, stepping aside to let Mahanon in. There's a delicate herbal scent that follows in the elf's wake, and Bull's damn tempted to snatch Mahanon up and bury his face in his lover's clean, wild curls. 

"I did, actually," Mahanon says primly. He stows his things with the rest of their luggage and turns, lifting his chin. "A nice and _successful_ bath." 

"That's my _kadan_," Bull says. He looks Mahanon over, letting his eyes linger. Mahanon's dressed simply in a loose tunic and trousers - easier to remove than his usual leggings, so he's clearly taken Bull's hints to heart. He's added a little kohl around his enormous eyes, and Bull gives a little rumble of approval to see it. There are few things Bull finds as satisfying as making an utter mess of Mahanon; that kohl will be smudged and smeared by sweat and tears before the night is through, and they both know it. "That plug didn't give you too much of a... _hard_ time?"

"Very funny," Mahanon says flatly, though a smile tugs at the corner of his full lips. He does his own once-over of Bull, eyes flickering as they touch on Bull's loose dark pantaloons (slightly less distracting than his preferred loud yellow plaidweave), widening as they rest on the fingerless leather gloves Bull's wearing. "_Mythal'enaste._"

"Same rule is in place," Bull says, beckoning Mahanon over to the bed. "No coming until I say, no matter how much you like the gloves. I've got everything lined up here if you wanna take a look." 

"Sadist," Mahanon grumbles, coming to stand at Bull's elbow. 

Bull watches Mahanon's expression as the elf examines the items laid out on the fancy Orlesian bedspread. Bull knows this face; Mahanon approaches these things with the same careful, curious analytical frown he approaches puzzles and accounts. Trying to piece it all together, trying to build a cohesive picture from disparate pieces. Thinking, thinking. 

It's a compelling arrangement of items, but simple enough: a small bottle of magebane, a few lengths of rope, a blindfold, a prickle wheel (and Mahanon's nose wrinkles distinctly at the sight of it), and two floggers - braided leather and unbraided bull hide. Mahanon snorts at that, offering Bull an ironic little smile. "_Bull_ hide." 

"Yeah, yeah," Bull says, putting an arm around Mahanon's shoulders. "Thoughts?"

Mahanon works his jaw for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "The prickle wheel."

"You two have a complicated relationship."

"I-" Mahanon struggles to find the words for a moment, and Bull gets it. It's this fine line they're riding, this careful dance between teasing and pain and pleasure. Mahanon takes pain well, _really _well. Teasing is far more difficult for him to handle. The prickle-wheel, with it's painful tickling sensation, falls into that strange love-hate category for him. Sometimes there are no proper words to describe a desire. "You only bring that out as a stick - coppers and such. I want to be good for you tonight, I don't plan to fuss."

"I know, _kadan_," Bull says, nesting his fingers in Mahanon's curls. Mahanon leans into the touch, eyes half-lidded as Bull starts to gently pull and twist, losing his hand in Mahanon's hair. "I want you to go down deep tonight, and you always go down harder when you're riled up first. When I've got to tame you a little. So I've got a little challenge lined up for you to bring you up a bit before putting you down. Make sense?" 

Mahanon relaxes at the mention of a challenge. Yes, Mahanon does love a challenge, a test, a chance to prove himself. He nods.

Then Mahanon sniffs, and turns to look at the bathing corner. "Should we drain the bath before we forget?"

"Ah," Bull says, dropping his hand. "Nope, I actually refilled that before you got here. Believe me, when it's finished we'll want to get you into some hot water so you don't seize up tomorrow. Shit, that reminds me."

Bull quickly nips back over to their luggage and pulls out a small pouch, passing by a bewildered Mahanon as he drags a stool over to the bathing area and upends the pouch onto its seat. Out fall a few bandages as well as a small jar.

"You should have seen the look on Stitches' face when I asked him to make a poultice that would keep a wound clean and healthy while letting it scar nicely," Bull says, arranging the items on the stool before returning to Mahanon. He kisses Mahanon's forehead. "Out of curiosity, how do all these randy qunari lovers handle hygiene in your books after all the fucking and animal instinct shit is over and done?"

"It never comes up," Mahanon says with an easy shrug. "The power of love wins out over infection."

"Not according to most brothel workers I know," Bull says, raising a brow. He touches Mahanon's shoulder, a few inches from the curve of his neck. "I was thinking of marking you here. Doesn't cut through any of your _vallaslin_, and you can hide it or show it off as you wish."

Mahanon puts his hand over Bull's, turning to look up at him with large, earnest eyes. "This means a lot to me, _vhenan_. That you'd be willing to do this. I know the circumstances are... complicated." 

Bull pulls him in close, wrapping his _kadan_ tight in his arms. "Shit with the Qun is complicated, but this? We're good. And whatever I can give you, I want to give you. Fuck, if things were different, I'd-" 

Bull breaks off with a laugh, and Mahanon pulls back just enough to look at him. "You'd what?"

Bull rustles Mahanon's hair, grinning as Mahanon scowls at him. "I'd slay the biggest fucking dragon I could find for you."

Mahanon does laugh at that, even as he shoves Bull's hand away. "Bull, as much as I'd greatly appreciate such a sweeping romantic gesture, I happen to know for a fact that you're happy to slay dragons no matter the occasion." He raises an eyebrow. "_Very_ happy." 

"I still think about that cave outside Val Firmin sometimes," Bull says roughly, and Mahanon takes a long breath. "That big fucking dragon, and both of us smelling like her, all charred up and bloody and _alive _\- fuck, _kadan_, we should do that again." 

"The Chargers weren't too happy about waiting for us-"

"The Chargers can fucking cope." Bull kisses Mahanon's laughing mouth. "But nah, we've got a tradition under the Qun. We prove our devotion to our _kadans_ by killing a big fucking dragon and making a necklace from one of its teeth, split in two. One half for each. So no matter how far apart we are, we're always... well, you know."

Mahanon isn't laughing anymore. Instead, he gazes up at Bull with soft eyes. "Oh."

"If anyone saw me wearing one, there'd be questions," Bull says seriously. "And if I had one, I'd want to wear it fucking proudly. I never want to hide you, _kadan._ One day, I want us to have that. But for now, I can give you this. I want you to wake up every day and know that I love you." Bull quirks a smile. "And yeah, seeing my teeth in you, my mark on you? Really fucking hot. You think you're needy right now, I've been thinking about tonight every day since you brought it up."

Mahanon squirms a little, his expression a charming mix of affectionate and beleaguered. "I currently have quite a large object playing all kinds of havoc on my willpower right now, so I'll thank you not to compare our levels of suffering."

"Oh is that what we're calling it now? Your 'willpower'?"

"_Shush_." Mahanon leans up on his toes, brushing his lips against the line of Bull's chin. "I love you, Iron Bull. You'll always have my heart, no matter the circumstance."

There are moments where it strikes Bull, every ounce of what he has here - the warmth in Mahanon's eyes, his wild hair, scarred hands, every last freckle of his sweet face. The sex is great, but this... Bull could wrap himself up in Mahanon for hours and be happy with it, and as much as he tries to caution himself not to hold on too tightly, he knows he's far too gone to let this go. Not without cleaving part of himself away first, something essential. 

The truth is, Bull wouldn't just slay the biggest dragon he could find for Mahanon. He'd slay a hundred fucking dragons. All that bardic crap about going to the ends of the earth and the deepest parts of the ocean, he gets it now. But Mahanon never asks, he just _gives._

Well, Bull can give too, and he plans to.

"_Kadan_," Bull murmurs. "Are you ready?" Mahanon nods, bright-eyed and eager. "Good boy. Then let's begin."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....oh sweet lord in heaven my catholic teachers are weeping somewhere.
> 
> CHAPTER TAGS:  
\- rope bondage  
\- orgasm denial  
\- sensory play (specifically with a warternberg wheel - called a prickle wheel in this universe, ayo)  
\- sensory deprivation (blindfold, magebane counts)  
\- flogging (hard enough to leave marks)  
\- spanking (though I don't use the word "spanking" in the text because weirdly the word but not the action itself squicks me out??)  
\- biting (hard enough to leave one hell of a mark)  
\- bloodplay (iiiiiish - as a result of the aforementioned biting)  
\- subspace  
\- crying during a scene (a happy release cry, not a panic cry, but not everyone is into that!)  
\- these two are stupidly in love mkay? mkay.
> 
> THANK YOU, ENJOY, AND THE NEXT UPDATE OF PATH SHOULD BE UP NEXT WEEK

By the time Mahanon finishes tracing the silencing sigil on the door of the bedroom, Bull is set up in a chair by the fireplace, patiently uncoiling a length of rope. He has the prickle wheel, the blindfold, the magebane, and a small hourglass on a side table at his elbow, everything set in place. 

Mahanon returns to Bull, beaming. "_Vhenan_, listen a moment."

Bull pauses with the ropes, extending his awareness. At first all he hears is the fire crackling away in front of them, the occasional drip from the bath, the soft breeze through the trees just outside the window-

That catches Bull's attention. He meets Mahanon's eyes with a grin. "Nice work."

"I don't think it's muffling any sounds coming in at all," Mahanon says, rubbing his hands together. "Usually there's a warping, or sort of a heavy feeling? But it's like the spell isn't even there - sorry, I know this magic stuff isn't exactly interesting for you-"

"It's fun watching you get all excited," Bull says, which is true; he might not give two shits about the intricacies of sigilwork, but the gleeful look in Mahanon's eyes when he gets fired up on the topic is easy to nod and smile along with. "We need to find you a couple of academic folks to chat with sometime, someone more on your level." 

Mahanon stares at Bull a moment, then bursts into a nervous, self-deprecating laugh. "'My level!' _Mythal'enaste_, Bull, it's not nice to tease-"

"Not teasing," Bull says softly, and Mahanon quiets. "You don't have to go to a fancy university to be quick - I sure as fuck didn't. Where do you think all those books you read wind up, falling out the back of your head or something?"

Mahanon rubs the nape of his neck self-consciously. "It's just a strange thought, that's all. And anyway, you had Ben Hassrath training-"

"And the Dalish have some of the longest and most intensely-kept oral history of any culture I know," Bull says.

"True," says Mahanon, shoulders straightening, a bit of that Dalish pride sparking in his eyes. He looks away. "Academic types - _shem'len_ \- don't tend to take Dalish learning seriously." He grins sharply. "_Dirthara-ma_."

"And they will," Bull says, echoing Mahanon's sharp smile. "Take off your clothes, _kadan_."

Mahanon's breath catches, his expression losing that fierce look. Bull likes flustering him, knocking him off-balance, tripping him out of his head a little. The first time Bull sat fully clothed and made Mahanon strip for him he thought the elf was going to crumple from nerves, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor and occasionally hiding his face despite the fact that he and Bull had bedded one another a few times by that point. There is a difference, Bull knows, between a hungry, mutual slapdash tug of clothing with distracting kisses and touches, and this: a slow, methodical unveiling under a watchful eye. 

But Mahanon is growing bolder, more comfortable in his skin. He manages to keep his gaze locked on Bull's as he slips out of his loose shirt and tosses it carelessly aside. Mahanon's dark skin shines like polished copper in the firelight, accenting his slim build, the hard-won cords of muscle in his arms and shoulders, catching on scars new and old. Mahanon swallows, then slips out of the loose trousers, clenching his jaw and breathing carefully as he kicks them out of the way. 

"Beautiful" isn't the kind of word most people would apply to someone like Mahanon; not if judging by classic expectations. But when Bull murmurs the word, it's no pretty lie - it's _him_, this elf, sparks wreathing through his hair and trickling over freckled, tattooed, scarred skin as he fights to hold Bull's gaze despite the flush in his cheeks. Bull's _kadan_, and for a moment, all Bull wants is to see a dragon tooth resting on Mahanon's chest to complete the picture. 

But even this is enough. Even this feels like a kind of miracle. 

Bull crooks a finger and Mahanon comes to him, trailing eager sparks. 

"Hands to yourself," Bull warns, and Mahanon swallows a disappointed grumble. Bull smiles at the sound and spreads his legs, patting a thick thigh invitingly. "Take a seat."

Mahanon narrows his eyes, and Bull can see it all flickering across Mahanon's face - nerves, desire, affection, and the distinct knowledge that sitting _anywhere _will be difficult with that plug resting inside him. 

But Mahanon clenches his hands to his sides and carefully perches on Bull's knee, long lashes fluttering for a moment as he adjusts.

Bull drapes an easy arm around Mahanon's slim waist, resting his hand on the elf's hip. "Nervous?"

Mahanon nods and shifts, lifting a hand before quickly forcing it back down to his side. He looks up at Bull and smiles. "Good nervous." 

Bull cups Mahanon's cheek and kisses him, gentle and tender. _His kadan_. "You're gonna let me devour you tonight, huh?"

Mahanon breathes sharply against Bull's lips, half a laugh and half a gasp. "I'm fairly certain I'm going to wind up begging you to, actually."

"Only 'fairly certain?'" Bull teases, hand drifting from Mahanon's face to trail along his front, letting Mahanon feel the palm of the leather glove smooth over his chest. Mahanon _likes_ leather - often on the road if there's no time for proper bindings and Mahanon's looking to give over control for the night, Bull will just don the gloves and pin Mahanon by his wrists while fucking him. Between the feel of the leather and the size and grip of Bull's hands, it does the trick nicely in a pinch. "You're getting comfortable, little elf - _hands_."

Mahanon quickly snatches his hand back from where it was creeping towards Bull's chest with a frustrated growl, arching into Bull's touch as he continues to stroke Mahanon's skin - his chest, his thighs, his arms, his throat...

"Of course I'm c-comfortable," Mahanon says, stuttering over the word as Bull's trailing fingertips tease lower, tracing that sweet spot below his stomach between his sharp hipbones. Mahanon takes a breath, turning those big eyes on Bull as he says softly, "I'm with you, aren't I?"

_This elf_. It's almost enough to distract Bull from his plans entirely, the sincerity in Mahanon's voice and the naked affection in his eyes, even as Bull is teasing him. A weaker man might have been swayed. 

But this is the kind of dance Bull lives for, and Bull shows plenty of teeth in his smile as he responds, "You don't get mercy points for being sweet, _kadan. _I've told you, I'm building up an immunity to those big eyes of yours."

"I was being _honest_," Mahanon protests, but there's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he says it. He leans in close to tuck his head under Bull's chin with a soft noise and Bull just can't bring himself to stop him.

"_Much_ too comfortable," Bull grumbles. 

"I'm not using my hands," Mahanon teases, tilting his face to press a gentle kiss to Bull's throat.

"Brat," Bull says, but even he can hear the affection in his own voice. Bull takes Mahanon by the shoulders and sits the elf back up again, shifting back into control. It's the little things - a lower tone, a narrowed eye, the way Bull holds himself to take full advantage of his size over Mahanon, how he tightens his grip just a little. "You know I never forget when you try to test me - hope you're not expecting to get away with it."

The effective is immediate and utterly gratifying. Mahanon flushes a deep red and his swiftly hardening cock twitches between his legs at Bull's tone. "I'm sorry-"

"Sixteen coppers," Bull says, and Mahanon presses his lips together with a wince. "It's only been a few weeks since we worked off your last debt, _kadan_, it's like you _want _to be punished."

Mahanon squirms and inhales sharply, clearly forgetting to account for the plug nestled inside him.

"You don't have to apologize for testing me," Bull says. Mahanon struggles to keep himself together, his sparks flickering into tiny threads of lightning. Just by Bull's words, barely Bull's touch. "I like a challenge too, you know that. You don't have to apologize because you know you'll be making it up to me in other ways, when you decide to be a good boy for me." 

"I'll be good-"

"Fuck yeah you will," Bull growls. "You can be good by keeping control of yourself. No matter how badly you want to, no matter what I do to you, you're not going to come until I say you can, and that's not gonna be for a while yet. Understand?"

Mahanon's hands clench into white-knuckle fists at his sides. "_Mythal'enaste_, Bull, I'm already-"

"I know," Bull says. "We haven't even started, and I bet I could make you come with a single touch." Bull chuckles and gives one of Mahanon's nipples a light pinch, causing Mahanon to jerk and cry out. "Or if I play with these for a few minutes. You remember that night by Churneau, don't you? Never even touched your cock, just took my time right here..."

"_Bull_," Mahanon pleads tightly, squirming back from Bull's touch. "I can't-"

"You will," Bull says simply. "You're going to keep yourself together for me, _kadan_. Because I'm telling you to. Because if you don't, you're going to take twenty lashes from the braids and you'll wear the Tingler until I'm ready to fuck you. Understand me?"

Mahanon's face tightens, his entire body strung taught, but he nods. 

"Good," Bull says softly, and Mahanon arches into the praise like a physical touch. "I'm going to tie you now. I'm going to bind your magic, I'm going to blindfold you. I'll explain what I want from you after that, but for now, just focus on being good for me." 

There's a patient art to rope work, and Bull is happy to take his time with it - carefully arranging knot after knot, murmuring instructions to Mahanon as he ties him. Arms bound tight behind his back, comfortable but secure, inescapable; a chest harness with pretty knot work patterns to accent Mahanon's _vallaslin _and leave sensitive areas exposed for Bull's touch. Mahanon is good for Bull, breathing carefully, eyes closed, flushed and trickling occasional drops of sweat to mingle with his sparks. Bull is careful, only occasionally allowing his fingertips to brush Mahanon's skin in a teasing way, keeping him on edge but never pushing too far. Pushing will come later; this is about building a space to push and be pushed.

Even as he works, Bull is mapping, measuring, planning. He knows Mahanon's body better than his own by this point, every angle and curve, every scar and freckle. And...

Something Bull misses from his time working alongside the _antaam_ is, of all things, the armour. You just don't see shit like a good _shokra-taar_ set down South, impressive and gorgeously crafted, letting you move and bash heads all while looking like the weapon you're supposed to be. But the quicker members of the _antaam_ developed their own style; lighter and flexible, a collection of hard-boiled leather guards carefully held together with intricate knot work that doubled as elbow pads, wrist guards, hand-wraps - protecting all those soft areas where a knife strike could be catastrophic.

The knot work also encouraged the _antaam _to develop close ties (and here Bull has to bite back a smirk at the unintentional pun of it all) with their fellow soldiers. The best and most effective _antaam-saar _rope patterns required a skilled partner's help. It put folks in charge of one another's safety in an intimate way. Bull remembers watching these members of the _antaam_ gear up, a flurry of activity and close bonds, and finding himself for a moment wishing that he and his _kadan_ weren't both warriors, that he could wrap Vasaad up the same way and give himself some direct role in keeping him safe. 

Bull has no real skill for design or craftwork - his style can be summed up as "brutally efficient," and he likes it that way. He admires the way Mahanon takes his time crafting his own staffs, carving and polishing and meticulously checking the balance, working magic into the wood with copper and runes. Mahanon always complains that his Sliabh knot carvings would never meet even a child's standard amongst his birth clan, pointing out inconsistencies and illogical loops in the design, but either Bull doesn't know enough to see it or Mahanon is being far too hard on himself. 

But Bull wishes he could craft, because he's had idle thoughts for a while. Thoughts of a set of leathers for Mahanon in that elvish style he likes, crafted by city elf vendors with Dalish roots who remember their heritage in the works they create, but with some additions: rope to connect the disparate pieces instead of hard buckles, so Bull can bind his _kadan_ in careful, protective knots to keep him safe throughout the day, knowing that all those soft areas are covered and accounted for. A Satinalia gift, maybe, or just whenever he can manage it. He thinks Mahanon would like that. 

Here and now, Bull comes to the last knot in an almost meditative state, giving a few gentle tugs to test the sturdiness of the harness. "How's that?"

Mahanon seems to have drifted into a similar space. The elf gives his curly head a quick shake before testing the ropes himself, pulling against the bindings. His breath catches as the knots hold firm, keeping his arms securely bound together at the small of his back. "Good." His voice is rough. 

Bull turns Mahanon in his lap, admiring the elf's pretty eyes with a soft smile. It's a shame to cover them, really, but necessary. 

Bull picks up the blindfold, and Mahanon huffs a very quiet little laugh. "I go to all the trouble of messing around with that blasted kohl..."

"This won't stay on the whole night," Bull says, kissing Mahanon's temple and feeling the elf's lashes flutter against his chin. "And you know I fucking love the kohl. I'm gonna buy Dalish a whole barrel of mead for introducing you to it at some point."

"Bull, I thought I was going to lose an _eye_ the way she 'introduced' me to it."

"Yeah, well, that's just her style," Bull says. "Close your eyes for me."

Mahanon's gaze flickers over Bull's face, drinking him in before going under. Then he closes his eyes.

Bull makes quick work of the blindfold. It has to be tight enough that Mahanon can't work it off himself if he gets testy, but not so tight that it causes discomfort beyond the discomfort of having his sight denied to him. There was a brief period of time when they first fell into bed together where Bull thought Mahanon might strictly be a sweet and compliant lover, and was pleasantly exasperated to be proven almost _entirely _wrong once Mahanon started figuring out how to escape Bull's bindings just to prove he could. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Mahanon is fully capable of - and comfortable with - being an absolute little shit sometimes. 

Blindfold in place, Bull holds Mahanon steady with one hand as he picks up the small vial of magebane and uncorks it with his teeth. Mahanon breathes in sharply and flicks his ears.

Bull touches the vial to Mahanon's lips. Mahanon opens his mouth and takes every drop, swallowing with a shudder. It's a massive thing for Mahanon to surrender, Bull knows, and Bull is honoured by it every time.

Bull hugs Mahanon close, whispering praise and comfort into his ears as Mahanon's sparks flicker and fade. Mahanon tucks his face into Bull's chest, shivering while adjusting to the losses; bound and deprived of sight, and now without his magic. This is what he gives to Bull, letting himself lean right on the edge of panic and fear and trusting that Bull won't let him fall.

"I know," Bull says softly, as Mahanon lets loose a small noise and immediately cringes. "That's alright. You're doing so well for me, _kadan._ I've got you."

Mahanon turns his head and presses his cheek to Bull's breast, and Bull realizes with a stab of tenderness that Mahanon is grounding himself by timing his breaths to Bull's heartbeat. Eventually his shivering calms and he relaxes - first by inches, then all at once, sagging against Bull as he gives himself over. 

"Good," Bull says. "That's good."

"I'm alright," Mahanon breathes. "I'm alright."

"Good boy," Bull says. "Let's see if you can keep being good for me."

Another flick of an ear and a nervous sound, halfway between a laugh and a choked groan. The magebane seems to have cooled Mahanon's aching desire somewhat, but that won't last long. 

Bull scoops Mahanon out of his lap and leans over, laying Mahanon down on the soft rug at his feet. Bull fishes a throw pillow from behind the small of his back and tucks it under Mahanon's head. It's too steep of a bend to kiss the adorable little notch of confusion between Mahanon's brows, but Bull does give it a little tap with his finger tip (prompting a scowl) before settling back into the armchair, pulling Mahanon's feet up into his lap. 

"Wha-?" Mahanon starts, then is startled into a long groan as Bull takes a slim foot into his hands and begins to massage, deep and brutal. 

"It's been a while since I've done this for you," Bull says conversationally, as Mahanon shifts on the rug and starts to purr, loudly and entirely involuntarily. The elf twists and tries to roll himself over to bury his face in the pillow and muffle the noises Bull's working out of him, but Bull pins him on his back with a foot on his chest. "No, I want to hear you. Such a loud purr for such a little elf, hmm?"

"_Bull_," Mahanon whines, flushing crimson at the teasing. No hands to hide behind and no way to muffle himself, naked and exposed for Bull with his hardening cock resting on his stomach, teased by the brush of ropes and knots with every breath. "I-"

Bull digs in deeper, and Mahanon arches, pulling at his bindings. 

Bull shakes his head with a fond smile. The elf has a decidedly mixed opinion on massages. Mahanon gives Bull no end of grief on the nights when Bull insists on fixing his knotted back for him, snapping and hissing as Bull smoothes out clenched muscles and sore spots along his spine and in his shoulders. Bull once witnessed the struggles of an Orlesian maid who was forced to give a palace cat a bath; same reaction. Mahanon complains every time, no matter how much more relaxed and less prone to migraines he is for days and even weeks afterwards. 

(Mahanon has his own ways of saying thank you though, not that he'll ever admit what he's thanking Bull for. But Bull has found a suspicious correlation between the occurrences of back massages and occurrences of Mahanon hiding a new set of lingerie under his clothes for Bull to find when they tumble into bed together. Usually the latter follows the former within a week or so.)

Despite all that, Mahanon does not mind having his feet worked over, and it stands to reason; Bull's never met an elf willing to turn down a good foot massage, the meaner the better. The layers of thick skin and tight muscle can become like stiff boards without care over time. Plenty of older city elves walk with a flat-footed gait, swaying awkwardly from side to side with every step, their feet seized up from a lifetime of walking barefoot on hard surfaces of stone and board rather than the more supple earth of the wilderness. Now that Mahanon is spending so much time on roads and in cities (and refuses to wear shoes, thank you very much), Bull's determined not to let the same thing happen to his _kadan._

Mahanon has yet to lodge a single complaint on this matter. 

So Bull massages and Mahanon purrs, only complaining when Bull teases him or when things start feeling _too _good and he strays close to that dangerous edge. Mahanon's sensitive enough that this alone could undo him - the massage, the plug buried inside him and shifting with every thoughtless squirm, the feel of the ropes against his skin. But the threat of the Tingler is a good one, and Mahanon knows Bull will follow through with it if he slips. 

Finally Bull brushes a kiss to the arch of each foot (and smiles at the embarrassed noise Mahanon makes at this). He places Mahanon's feet in his lap again, holding them loosely - just a hand as a guide for where he wants them. _Time to get mean._

"I'm gonna keep my hand here just like this," Bull says, tapping Mahanon's foot. "Try pulling away from me."

That confused notch returns to Mahanon's brow over the top of the blindfold, his purring fading in his chest, but he does as he's told. He tugs his feet away from Bull and Bull puts up no resistance, leaving Mahanon curled up awkwardly on his back. 

"I want you to know that I won't be restraining you," Bull says, reaching over and pulling Mahanon's feet into position again. "My hand is just here to let you know where I want you to keep them. That's how easy it'll be for you to get away."

Mahanon's a smart boy - he knows trouble when he hears it. The notch deepens into a frown and his ears flick back suspiciously.

"You're wondering what I'm going to do to you," Bull says softly. "You should be wondering what you're going to _let_ me do. You're not going to like it at all, but you're going to hold still because I'm asking you to. Because you're a good boy." Bull grins. "And because it's going to be so much worse for you if you don't."

Mahanon is looking good and nervous now, craning his neck and falling back in frustration as he remembers the blindfold. He shifts his feet in Bull's lap. Maybe trying to decide if he should pull away.

Bull lets the apprehension build, timing his movements by the tempo of Mahanon's breaths. Then he picks up the prickle wheel and runs it along the hard wood of the side table, just enough to make the slightest clicking sound without dulling the spikes. He knows Mahanon hears it by the twitch of his ears and the way he tenses, feet curling over in Bull's lap. "You know what that is, don't you?"

Mahanon presses back against the pillow, breathing deep and steadily, gathering himself as best he can. Mahanon hates the wheel almost as much as he hates the Tingler. 

"You said you were up for a challenge," Bull says. "You knew this was coming. Here's the challenge. I've got an hourglass on the table here. If you keep still for me for just two minutes while I work the wheel over your feet, you pass. If you pull away from me, we start over." Bull tweaks a toe and Mahanon bares his teeth. "We're just starting with the feet. I've got a couple other places in mind to visit with this thing too."

Mahanon opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, jaw clenched. 

"I've always tied you down first before using this," Bull says, guessing at Mahanon's thoughts. Mahanon turns his face. "I know it drives you crazy. It's not quite pain, not quite pleasure... fuck, I love how it makes you squirm."

"You could just beat me," Mahanon grits out bitterly.

Bull laughs. "Believe me, _kadan_, you won't be able to sit down for a good long while once I'm through with you tonight. But I'm going to make you beg for it, every step of the way. You're gonna beg me to tie you until you can't move at all, beg me for a deeper pain until you can't think at all. You're going to earn it by showing me how much you _need_ it, what you're willing to suffer for it. Big pain is simple. Little pain, sharp pain, teasing pain, all the shit that makes you twitch and flinch and itch, well. We both know that's harder to manage." Bull scratches the sole of Mahanon's foot. "Two minutes."

"But I can't see the-" Mahanon starts, and stops. This was the point of the blindfold. "_Ass._"

"Three minutes, then," Bull says, and Mahanon's mouth falls open to protest. "These are my rules, and it's my mercy you're going to be wanting to angle for. You know backtalk just gives me an excuse to make things harder for you." Mahanon shuts his mouth, but Bull knows if the blindfold weren't in place he'd be on the receiving end of a scalding glare right now. "I know you, little elf. You disappear in numbers. You think you can escape the pain and teasing by counting down the minutes and the strokes if you're able to." Bull traces the steel handle of the prickle wheel along Mahanon's calf and Mahanon flinches but does not pull away. "You remember the second night I made you wear the Tingler?"

Mahanon purses his lips but says nothing. Bull had Mahanon work off his coppers by tying him in full-body bonds and tormenting him with the prickle wheel, one minute for every copper owed. Mahanon was far too riled up to submit, so Bull brought out the Tingler, reset the hourglass, and started from the beginning while Mahanon squirmed in his bonds and begged for release. It was the closest Mahanon's ever come to saying "_katoh_," the elf revealed later, and Bull was sure to take good care of him once the time was up and Mahanon's debt was paid. 

"I watched you," Bull says. "Before you surrendered to me you had your eyes fixed on the hourglass, like you were counting every grain of sand passing through. It was only when you stopped watching it that you finally started to let go. So I'm gonna watch the time tonight, and your only job is to keep still." Bull swats Mahanon's calf with the handle of the prickle wheel, a quick sting, and Mahanon jerks with a sharp breath. "You're still not allowed to come. Understand?"

Mahanon works his jaw, breathing heavily, and Bull wishes he could see his eyes. Wishes he could watch this journey as Mahanon decides how he'll receive this, if he'll fight tooth and nail and challenge Bull every step of the way, or try to submit. Trust and follow Bull's path to surrender. No wrong answer, never any wrong answer, and that's the point. Bull will meet him at any level and serve his needs, take him down, take control. 

Mahanon collapses back against the rug, another barrier eased away as he makes his choice and whispers, "I want to be good, _vhenan_."

"I know," Bull says, reaching for the hourglass. "I know you're going to be good for me."

Bull's used the wheel on Mahanon enough times now to get a sense of his reactions - the amount of pressure that tickles and teases, that stings, that bites. Mahanon gets quickly irritated by the lighter pressure and can grit his teeth through the deeper bite, but it's that middle ground he truly cannot handle, causing him to jerk and hiss and snarl. 

Bull warms up with a lighter touch to get Mahanon re-accustomed to the sensation, and he does better than Bull expects him to - he makes it two strokes before he jerks his foot out of Bull's lap. Completely reflexive. 

"I didn't mean-" Mahanon starts.

"It's a good start," Bull says, drawing Mahanon's foot back into his lap. "But rules are rules."

Bull eyes the hourglass until the level of sand reaches a notch he can judge the minutes by, then begins again. Light strokes, one foot then another.

Mahanon shakes with the effort of keeping still, flinching and twitching as Bull switches directions, switches placements, unpredictable and impossible to prepare or account for. Bull glances down and clicks his tongue. "You still have to breathe, _kadan_."

"I-"

Bull draws a long stroke along the more sensitive inner arch of Mahanon's foot at just the right pressure, right in that intolerable middle ground, and Mahanon tugs out of Bull's hands with a frustrated yelp. 

"Just over half a minute," Bull says, as Mahanon smacks his head back in frustration against the throw pillow. "The better you're able to control yourself, the sooner we can get through this, you know. I'm happy to sit here for hours if that's how long it takes."

Mahanon growls low in his throat, but does not resist as Bull puts his feet back in his lap and starts again. 

This time, Bull moves to deeper strokes - the ones that bite, leaving long lines of little deep pinpricks in the skin, just on the edge of breaking through. Mahanon can relax into this a little easier. Though he still shakes with the effort of keeping still and grits his teeth, taking shallow breaths as he tries to manage his reflexes, and though Mahanon has described the deeper strokes as leaving a tingling itch in their wake, the pain of the bite is something to hold onto. Something familiar that he can ground himself with, something tangible. 

Even so, Mahanon starts to struggle more after a minute of this treatment, tiring of the effort to process and ride through the sensations. His feet start to twitch involuntarily, at one point jerking back about an inch as Bull switches to a lighter touch but quickly pushing himself into Bull's hands again. Bull pauses for a moment just to make Mahanon sweat before continuing with his work. He can allow an inch. 

He does, however, move back into that unbearable pressure now, pushing Mahanon's toes back and exploiting every weak spot. Mahanon is a delight to watch as he struggles to take the new pressure: sucks in panicked breaths, tossing in his bonds, shaking and twitching with choked and bitten back noises until finally he recoils sharply with a strangled cry, collapsing to the side and curling up in a tight ball on the rug.

"That was nearly two minutes," Bull says as Mahanon recovers, rubbing his feet against one another to soothe the tingling and itching left by the wheel. "Just think, if you'd been nicer to me earlier, that could have been it."

"_Please_," Mahanon pants wretchedly. "Please tie me down, please help me, I can't..."

"You can and you will," Bull says firmly, and Mahanon presses his forehead into his knees, chest heaving. "If you really want me to tie you while I do this, I will, but you'll wear the Tingler until I'm ready to fuck you. That's gonna be a long time."

Mahanon snarls at this, but lets Bull roll him onto his back again with his foot and dutifully places his feet back in Bull's lap. 

"Good boy," Bull says kindly, even as Mahanon makes another frustrated and helpless noise. He starts again, talking Mahanon through every stroke as the elf immediately starts to whimper and shake at the touch of the wheel, half-broken already. "This is the hardest part, I promise. The more you give me, the less you'll have to carry this, remember? All that matters is that you do as I tell you. That's all you have to do for me."

Bull doesn't spare him this time, starting into that torturous pressure the moment Mahanon's reacquainted with the touch. Mahanon writhes beneath him on the floor, gritting his teeth and breathing in whines and hisses, pulling helplessly at his ropes. Bull loves seeing Mahanon like this, all that shy self-conscious anxiousness driven from his mind by sensation, forcing every part of him to admit he does not have control. After all, keeping still for Bull isn't about self-control so much as it is about obeying and submitting; forcing the subconscious to submit as well by ignoring all reflexive instinct. Absolute surrender. 

Bull wants Mahanon to get there, he does. But he's not gonna make it easy for him. That would defeat the purpose.

"Besides," Bull says, eyeing the hourglass - one minute down, two to go, and Mahanon can barely breathe. "I think you enjoy this more than you let on, _kadan_."

"_Fuck _y_-_" Mahanon starts to snap, but bites back the rest of it and screws up his face against a strangled shout. 

"Good save," Bull says, deepening the pressure to a more bearable pain, and Mahanon lets out a long, shuddering breath. "You know I would have added another minute for that. I mean it, though. You claim you hate this, but you should see your cock right now. You must be aching, aren't you? Maybe your head doesn't like it, but your body sure does. Maybe you keep pulling away because you want me to do this all night..."

"_Bull_," Mahanon gasps. His cock twitches on his stomach at Bull's words, hard and flushed and just starting to leak. "Bull, I can't - don't make me think about it, please-"

"Think about what?" Bull asks innocently, working the wheel in lazy strokes over Mahanon's skin. The longer this goes, the more sensitive the wheel makes him, the more the sensations linger. "What's bothering you more, _kadan_? Me playing with your feet like this, or that I'm not playing with you where you _want_ to be played with? Maybe I should go there next, run this wheel over your cock. I bet that would drive you fucking crazy, and I bet you'd come in two strokes-"

Mahanon pulls away - not a helpless yank or a reflexive jerk, but a desperate retreat, planting both feet firmly on the rug as he arches back with something like a shriek through gritted teeth. His cock jumps, drips another drop of precum onto his shivering stomach, but he does not come. 

Bull watches as Mahanon breathes, and breathes again. Then slowly, shakily, lifts his feet and lets Bull guide him back into his lap. 

This time, neither of them speak. Mahanon shakes and shivers on the ground, breathing erratically, but his feet stay put save the occasional twitch. Bull smiles, heart lifting with soft pride. The level of determination Mahanon can summon once his mind is set on a task is formidable to say the least. Terrifying, if that iron will belonged to an individual with a very different heart than Bull's _kadan_. 

Bull almost doesn't notice when the sand passes the three minute mark, but catches himself before inflicting any more torment on Mahanon than necessary. He puts the wheel aside, and at the clink of the device against the wooden side table Mahanon heaves a huge shuddering sigh of relief. "Good boy, _kadan_. You should be proud."

Mahanon is proud, Bull can tell; it's more relief than pride in his panting half-smile, sure, but it's still there. 

Bull leans over again and lifts Mahanon up, careful to avoid brushing his swollen length with a clumsy hand or wrist as he does so. He guides Mahanon to sit in his lap again, settling into the seat and encouraging Mahanon to lean back against him. Mahanon relaxes against his chest with a sigh. Bull can still feel him shaking ever so slightly, almost vibrating after his ordeal. 

"Like this," Bull murmurs, placing his gloved hands on Mahanon's knees and pressing them apart. Mahanon breathes in sharply at that, his hands fisting in his bonds at his back. "This one will be easier. Just relax."

Mahanon's ears flick and he tenses - with his legs spread over Bull's lap like this, there's plenty of sensitive areas left vulnerable to Bull's wheel. "_Mythal'enaste_, Bull..."

"You can do this," Bull says softly, barring his arm across Mahanon's chest to hold him in place as Mahanon starts to squirm apprehensively. "You already did it once, yeah? Now I'm holding you, and you can hook your legs around mine if you have to. Just keep them open for me. Three minutes."

Mahanon swallows, his head falling back against Bull's shoulder. "I'm ready for those floggers, _vhenan_. I promise. As many strokes as you want with them."

Bull laughs. "Even the braids?"

"_Creators_, _fenhedis_, yes, the braids, even," Mahanon says tightly. "I won't complain, I'll say thank you after each blow, just... please, not this, not - not _there_, please-"

"Not where?" Bull asks teasingly, and Mahanon groans. Bull traces a fingertip along one of Mahanon's inner thighs, delighting in the soft skin as Mahanon shifts and whines. "Not here? You don't want me to use the wheel here? But _kadan_, your thighs are so sensitive, how am I supposed to resist that?"

"I'm not _saying _that you're an absolute bastard with a sadistic taste for torturing innocent elves, so you can't go adding minutes for backtalk," Mahanon mutters sourly, wriggling in Bull's grasp as Bull continues to tease him, tracing little circles closer and closer to where his thigh meets his groin. "I'm just - _fuck, _I'm just thinking it very loudly, damn it!"

"Oh, _kadan_, but you _knew_ that," Bull says, abandoning the tease to wrap Mahanon in a tight embrace, pressing his mouth to Mahanon's ear. "You _knew_ I'm a big bad bastard qunari who likes to torment pretty little elves like you, just to watch you squirm." Bull bites Mahanon's ear and grins as Mahanon whimpers. "You came to my bed anyway becauseyou _wanted_ me to torture you, _wanted _me to tie you up and hold you down and conquer every last part of you. Just like you want me to fuck you so hard you can't think of anything but how fucking _good_ it feels to be stuffed so full with my thick cock, knowing you'll be feeling me inside you for days after..."

"_Bleeding thorns_, Bull, I can't - I'm going to-" 

Mahanon breaks off into a stream of panicked Dalish, but Bull gets what he's trying to say. He kisses Mahanon's ear and backs off before he talks the poor elf right over the edge, stroking Mahanon's hair to soothe him as he struggles to regain his composure. 

"You're doing so good," Bull says, tempering his voice - softer and kinder. He might be Mahanon's tormenter, but he's also his comfort too, and he's careful to balance the roles. "I've got you, _kadan_. I've got you right here."

Mahanon breathes and sinks back against Bull, flushed and dewy with sweat. He nods, and Bull kisses his hair and takes up the prickle wheel again.

Bull takes his time and enjoys himself, finding every last terrible sweet spot with his wheel as Mahanon bucks against his arm, gasps and begs and twists in his lap. Between the noises Mahanon's making and the way he's writhing against Bull, Bull's cock is starting to take a far more pronounced interest in the proceedings, from a lazy half-hard state to a far harder - well, more difficult situation to ignore. 

As Bull suggested, Mahanon quickly hooks his ankles around Bull's thick calves to anchor himself and hold his legs open for Bull's teasing. Even so, he cries out and curls up on himself defensively when the wheel strays too close to that hellishly sensitive join between thigh and hip. 

"Aw, _kadan_," Bull sighs, putting the wheel aside and gently tugging Mahanon's legs back into position. "You were doing so good for me."

"Bull," Mahanon whimpers, flinching as Bull moves to take up the wheel again. "Could - when you talk to me, it helps, could you - tell me how to do this for you, please, I want to be good-"

"_Kadan_," Bull says again, all warmth and affection, and Mahanon melts into him. "You let me take things from here, sweetheart. Let it all go. It takes more effort for you to disobey me and pull away than it does to lie back and take it, so relax."

Bull props Mahanon up so he's better balanced in his lap as he speaks, feeling the elf become heavy and boneless with every word as he sinks further under. Some nights it's like a sudden plunge, how Mahanon drops from his usual state to that total surrender, but other times it's like this - a slow descent, easing down inch by inch. 

"I'm yours," Mahanon murmurs, his words slurring ever so slightly. "I'm yours, whatever you want, I'm yours Iron Bull, _vhenan_..."

"And I'm yours too, _kadan_," Bull whispers, holding him close. "So let me take it all off your shoulders, yeah? You just relax."

Bull starts again with the wheel, attacking those sensitive thighs. Mahanon shifts but hardly flinches, moans with the occasional sharp gasp but does not cry out or hiss. 

"This must be hell for you," Bull says, and Mahanon chokes on the edge of a long, quiet whine. "I know how tender you get between your legs, it's why I like sinking my teeth in there, but look how beautifully you're taking this for me. I don't even have to bind you for you to be so good, fuck, you're so sweet for me."

Mahanon soaks up the praise with grateful whimpers, if anything spreading his legs wider to prove Bull right. Bull chuckles and kisses the tip of Mahanon's ear.

The minutes trickle by and are finally spent, leaving Bull with a shaky puddle of an elf in his lap. 

"Fuck, _kadan_," Bull says, shifting to put the wheel aside, and by the way Mahanon suddenly makes a pining noise Bull knows the elf can feel how hard Bull is in his trousers right now. "You want this cock, elf?" Mahanon nods, squirming against Bull's erection, and Bull groans. "Fuck, that's a yes. I can't wait to give it to you, bury myself inside you - fuck, you make me so hot."

"Bull," Mahanon says breathlessly, rubbing his ass against Bull's length. "Bull, I can't - I want you, I need... please..."

"Not yet," Bull says, and Mahanon moans plaintively. "I know, but you've definitely fucking earned a little relief."

Bull digs a handkerchief out of his pocket. He lets the fabric tickle over Mahanon's thigh to tease him, wringing another little whimper from the elf. 

"Do you want to come, little elf?" Bull ask. Mahanon gasps and rolls his hips in a desperate, needy motion. "You want me to get you off, give you a little breather?"

Mahanon's response comes in a stream of "yes" and "please" as well as snatches of praises and Dalish and curses, a waterfall of words that nonetheless gets the point across. Mahanon cries out as Bull wraps his leather-clad hand around Mahanon's aching cock, and with two strokes and Bull whispering encouragement into his ear Mahanon comes with a grateful sob into Bull's handkerchief. 

Usually Bull would keep stroking, wring a few more shudders from the elf and maybe give him a few tugs past the point of oversensitivity, but Bull is far from done with Mahanon tonight and wants to keep him needy. So two strokes, and one long one to make sure Mahanon enjoys a full - if not thorough - climax, and then Bull releases him and cleans him with a few quick swipes with the clean edges of the handkerchief.

Regardless, Mahanon is breathing nothing but thank you's, utterly boneless with relief. Bull takes Mahanon's chin and silences his gratitude with a deep kiss. 

"Same rules, now," Bull says, his lips brushing Mahanon's as he speaks. "Your next orgasm is up to me, not you, yeah? You still don't come until I tell you."

Mahanon nods fervently, leaning in for another kiss.

Bull allows it, licking into Mahanon's soft mouth and closing his teeth on a full lower lip, Mahanon moaning openly into the kiss. No ducking his head, no blushing, no hiding - just honest desire, and Mahanon lets Bull hear and see him, wrapped up in trust and comfort. 

"So good for me," Bull murmurs, and it's all he can do not to rip off Mahanon's blindfold so he can lose himself in his _kadan'_s eyes, the way Mahanon looks at him sometimes like... fuck, Bull's not a fucking poet and he doesn't have the words for any of this shit, but he can _feel _it. And he can try to make Mahanon understand what he doesn't have the words to say in other ways. 

Bull gathers Mahanon into his arms and stands, momentarily grateful he didn't give into his impulses and remove Mahanon's blindfold so the elf can't see him wince as his leg gives a painful twinge. He'll be happy for that hot bath himself after; it always takes a few good soaks before he starts to loosen up from the road. 

It's a juggle, keeping Mahanon cradled in his arms while snagging the hourglass and the wheel, but he manages it somehow. Luckily it's only a few steps to the bed. Bull takes a heavy seat at the end of it, shoving the floggers and another length of rope out of the way to make room. 

"One last challenge," Bull says, and Mahanon grunts a surprisingly coherent little "_ugh_" in response. Bull chokes back a laugh and tries to sound stern. "Not getting cocky, are you?"

Mahanon hangs his head. "No, ser."

Bull rumbles approvingly at that - yeah, "ser" fucking _works_ for him. He only makes Mahanon call him that exclusively when Mahanon wants to act up and the night becomes a more discipline-focused scene, but it's always a treat to hear it no matter the context. 

"Good," Bull says. He turns Mahanon over in his lap, ass-up and appealingly arranged over his knee. Mahanon's breath catches and Bull grins. "You know what's coming, don't you?"

Mahanon turns his head on the mattress, shifting to find a comfortable position. "I - I think I have some idea."

Bull pats Mahanon's ass, adjusting the hourglass on the mattress with his free hand. From this angle he can see the base of the plug nestled between Mahanon's cheeks, and it does nothing to ease his own aching desire. "It's harder for you to squirm away from me like this, so you'd have to try _really_ hard to be bad." He can't help but give a quick pinch. Mahanon yelps and kicks, for all the good it does him. "Yeah, you're fucked, _kadan._"

"I fucking wish," Mahanon mutters into the mattress. 

Bull wastes no time with the wheel, aiming straight for Mahanon's weak spots - the backs of his thighs, every sensitive curve, back and forth without respite. Mahanon takes full advantage of the limitations of his position to squirm and kick at the mattress, even biting the blankets to muffle a tormented shout. The serenity of how he handled the previous session seems to have largely escaped him, but that's okay - there's an ebb and flow to these things, and Bull doesn't mind watching his lover writhe and beg for mercy. 

"I can feel you getting hard again, you know," Bull says, and Mahanon groans. "Your cock _loves_ this, it's so fucking cute how much you enjoy this."

Mahanon replies in a stream of Dalish, but Bull can guess at the content of the words by the tone.

"It's still backtalk if it's in another language," Bull says. "Do you want me to add another minute?" Mahanon's response comes in a stuttering garble, and Bull shakes his head. "Try again."

"_No!_" Mahanon gasps, wriggling desperately.

"Hmm," Bull says, sawing the wheel back and forth right under the swell of Mahanon's ass, and Mahanon chokes out half a yelp. "I think you could do better, _kadan_. You know I like it when you beg."

"_Please_," Mahanon breathes immediately, panting and squirming. "Please don't add more time, please - mercy, Bull, _please_, I'll be so good, I promise..."

Bull lets Mahanon beg and plead his way through the last minute on the hourglass, then sighs loudly and puts the wheel aside. "Alright, you've convinced me. No extra time. What do we say?"

"_Thank_ you," Mahanon whimpers, shifting in Bull's lap. "Thank you, ser, thank you..." 

"Aww," Bull says, giving Mahanon's ass a few light scratches. "Now, this was where I was gonna tie your legs and flog you nice and hard, just the way you like it." Bull reaches over and strokes Mahanon's hair, waiting until Mahanon relaxes before taking a good handful of his curls and yanking hard, wringing a startled noise from Mahanon's throat. "But you were being a brat earlier, remember? And you're already over my knee."

Mahanon groans. "The plug..."

"I know," Bull says, tracing a fingertip around the base of the toy in question. Mahanon shudders. "You're going to _really_ feel each smack, huh? Nice and deep inside you. But you're not going to come, because I haven't told you that you can yet. Are you gonna take this like a good boy?"

"I'll be good," Mahanon whispers, his voice catching. "Promise."

"Good," Bull says, lifting his hand. "Don't forget to breathe, _kadan_."

Mahanon breathes in to reply, but the breath escapes him in a sharp yelp as Bull brings his hand down sharply on his ass with a crisp _slap_. 

Honestly, Bull's happy for the excuse to do this bit by hand, warming Mahanon up for the beating to come with smacks ranging from sharp stings to deep thudding blows. Mahanon's skin is already flushed and sensitive from the wheel, slowly turning a deep red under Bull's hand. Bull pauses to scratch and rub a few soothing circles in each cheek before starting up again, Mahanon's startled gasps turning to breathless panting and moaning as he struggles to keep still. Bull can feel Mahanon's cock pressing stiff against his thighs, twitching and jumping with each blow.

Bull works until Mahanon's ass is crimson and warm to the touch, ready for a sharper sting than Bull's hand can provide.

"Good," Bull murmurs, turning Mahanon over in his lap. Mahanon groans, his cock full and flushed again. "How are you doing, _kadan_?"

Mahanon's head lolls against Bull's shoulder, his response slow but coherent as he murmurs, "I'm good, _vhenan_. I'm alright." He shifts his hips with a needy whine. "Want you to fuck me."

"I bet," Bull says roughly, scratching just under the head of Mahanon's cock. Mahanon jerks and whimpers, shivering as he struggles to keep himself in check. "You know this is torture for me too, right? You squirming around like this and begging for me, like there's anything else I'd rather be doing than fucking you... but we're both just gonna have to wait a little longer. Okay?"

Mahanon emits a dry sob, coming apart under Bull's words and teasing finger, but he nods. "O-okay, alright, _Creators_, please..."

Bull relents, moving his hand away from Mahanon's sensitive length and lifting him up for a kiss. "Good boy."

The next part takes some maneuvering, the hardest part of which is having Mahanon stand before the foot of the bed while Bull carefully ties him by his thighs and ankles to the bedposts - keeping him perfectly in place, legs slightly apart, while Mahanon struggles to keep his feet under him. 

Bull takes a pile of pillows from the head of the bed and arranges them in front of Mahanon, guiding his _kadan_ down to rest against them. Mahanon slumps over with a grateful sigh, pillowing his head and chest on the bedding. 

Bull rubs Mahanon's back for a few moments, rolling the knots of the ropes along his spine like a light massager and even coaxing a very quiet purr from Mahanon as he does so. Then he takes up the braided flogger, giving the strands a quick twist and tug to warm them up. 

"No tests, no challenges," Bull says, trailing the tips of the braids over Mahanon's ass. Mahanon hisses apprehensively - of the various floggers, Mahanon is partial to the ones that deliver a deeper _thud, _finding the pain almost meditative and calming. The ones that sting, not so much. Mahanon once described the braided flogger as akin to being swatted with a beehive. "You can't squirm away from me now, can you?"

Mahanon tests the ropes binding his legs in place with a low groan. "No."

"That's right. So no rubbing yourself off on the bed, and no coming. Just breathe, and relax."

Mahanon breathes, and Bull narrows his focus. Mahanon's ass is a narrow target for flogging, dangerous if Bull's strike is off-mark. He plans to leave some significant welts striped across Mahanon's skin, but there's a solid line between the pain Mahanon craves and the possible harm that could come from it. Bull takes that responsibility seriously.

So Bull lines up his shot, breathes, and strikes. 

Mahanon's breath catches at the sound of the flogger whipping through the air, but bites out a surprised yip as the braids _just_ flick his skin, the snap of the leather causing him to flinch far more than the actual sensation. 

Bull smiles. "It's so cute how nervous you get, _kadan,_ waiting for me to really lay into you."

Another _snap_, and this time Mahanon growls in anxious frustration as he's subjected to another light flick. 

"Maybe I'll be nice," Bull continues, stroking the braids over Mahanon's bare skin. "Maybe it'll all just be nice light touches. I know how the braids can make a mess of you, no matter how much you were begging for them earlier. What were you saying? As many strokes as I want, and you'll thank me for each one?"

_Snap_. A precise flick of tails against Mahanon's thighs, and Mahanon pulls at his leg bindings, shifting uneasily. 

"Do you think it's gonna hurt any less if you know it's coming?" _Snap_, flick. "You think if you brace yourself for it, you won't break for me?" _Snap,_ flick. "You're still not letting go, _kadan_. Still trying to think your way out of this."

"Bull-"

_Snap._

Mahanon shouts a startled curse as the blow lands - only half-strength, but enough to send him rocking up onto his toes from the sting. 

"Thing is, I wanna make a mess of you tonight, little elf," Bull says sweetly, shaking out the braids as Mahanon settles himself with soft, pained gasps. "You went to all the effort with that kohl, after all. I wanna see it smeared all over your pretty little face, wanna see you _wrecked _for me."

_Snap_. Mahanon lets out a full, pitched holler as the braids bite into him.

"That's it, _kadan_," Bull says, snapping the flogger again and again, relentless but without a set rhythm for Mahanon to grip onto, the blows always landing an unexpected moment too soon or a breath too late. He raises his voice over Mahanon's pained cries. "Let it out, sweetheart, just like that. No one can hear you but me."

Mahanon does not take the flogging quietly, startled and pained yelps giving way to begging and cursing in every language he knows. Bull is generous with his breaks, allowing Mahanon to breathe and recuperate, but this wears the elf down too; every break forces him to suffer another round of building anxiety waiting for the next strike to land. 

It's only a few minutes, but it probably feels much longer on the receiving end of things as Bull watches deep red welts rise on Mahanon's skin, every blow doubling in sharp pain as new stripes are laid across older ones. An excruciating eternity for Mahanon, but not very long at all for Bull until Mahanon collapses into the pillows with a broken wail, no longer flinching or gasping with each strike but just _taking_ it. 

Bull lowers his arm. This might have taken more time on another night, but after all the torment of the preamble, there was no way Mahanon could have held his own against the braids for very long. 

Bull puts the flogger aside, placing a comforting hand on Mahanon's back as he gasps for air between sobs. There's a difference between this and the tears Mahanon sheds when he's angered or mourning; this is nothing but release, pure and simple. Bull works hard for these tears. Works hard to give Mahanon a space where he feels safe enough to shed them. 

"_Kadan_," Bull murmurs, and Mahanon's breath hitches, shoulders heaving as he continues to weep openly. Bull takes up the heavier flogger, the unbraided bullhide, trailing the tails over Mahanon's sore skin. "You like this one, don't you? None of that sting, just a hard slam that'll knock you right out of your head. You want that?"

Mahanon nods vigorously, responding in slurred and pitched Dalish, voice shuddering and breaking as he tries to speak. Bull smiles. 

"I don't need to know what you're saying right now, _kadan_," Bull murmurs, squeezing Mahanon's shoulder to ground him. "You can float wherever you want, and I've got you. But you remember our watchwords, yeah?" 

Mahanon nods again, this time adding a shaky, "Y-yes, Bull."

"Alright."

Bull straightens up, giving Mahanon's ass a few gentle pats to warm him up again (and even that is enough to prompt a fresh cry from Mahanon). No teasing this time, no need to build suspense - Bull settles back, aims, and swings. 

The first snap of the flogger is far from full strength, but it rocks Mahanon regardless, his weeping breaking off into a broken shout before he drops into utter silence. 

Bull keeps a close eye on Mahanon's breathing and the expression on the parts of his face left uncovered by the blindfold, focusing on his reactions just as much as the strength and accuracy of his blows. Mahanon will be knocked deep under at this point, as far down as Bull can take him without risking a brutal drop afterwards (and already, he's anticipating some tears when Mahanon eventually has to come up again). Mahanon is panting open-mouthed, gasping quietly, but his breaths are steady. Good. He's doing good.

Three hard blows in, and Mahanon lets out a long, gratified moan, finding that intense sweet spot between pleasure and agony. Bull smiles to hear it.

"Yeah, you love this, don't you?" Bull murmurs, delivering another hard _snap_. Mahanon rocks on his feet but recovers quickly, pressing back against the ropes for more with a long sigh and a curve of his lips. "Look at that smile, _kadan_. Fuck, you're so damn pretty. So fucking beautiful."

_Snap_, and Mahanon releases a stream of careless laughter, directionless and joyful. Bull has no worries about Mahanon climaxing from this - this kind of pleasure honestly has very little to do with sex, and Mahanon's riding the wave of an entirely different kind of release.

Bull continues to murmur praises as Mahanon leans into the flogger, begging in Dalish and babbling and laughing and occasionally sobbing between the laughs and every hitching breath. A few more snaps, and it's tempting to keep going given how blissful Mahanon looks taking it, but Mahanon's body is already showing signs of tiring - legs shaking as he droops against the ropes, breathing a touch too deeply, too quickly. 

So Bull puts the flogger aside, laying a grounding hand on Mahanon's back again. "Good, _kadan_. You did so good for me."

"More?" Mahanon whispers dreamily - a question, not a plea.

"No more flogging, no more ropes," Bull says, already getting to work untying Mahanon's ankles. They're quick knots, meant to hold firm but come apart easily. He has a knife on hand just in case, but is loathe to cut good rope if he doesn't have to. "Relax, baby, I've got you."

It's an easy command to obey, and Mahanon does so gladly, collapsing into a happy boneless heap on the bed as Bull frees him from his various bindings. Then he shoves everything else off the bed - ropes, floggers, wheel, hourglass, all of it - and takes his lover into his arms, finally loosening the ties and freeing Mahanon's eyes from the blindfold.

Mahanon blinks slowly, obviously dazed and still riding his battle high from the flogging. His eyes are enormous and glassy, the kohl smeared beautifully over his cheeks and trailing marks as he blinks away a few trapped tears, but his gaze sharpens as he finds Bull's eye. His lips curve into a tired smile. 

"There you are," Bull says fondly, stroking Mahanon's cheek with his knuckle. Mahanon tilts his head to kiss Bull's hand, his eyes still fixed on Bull's face. "My tough little _kadan, _look at you."

"Can't," Mahanon murmurs, putting a shaky hand over Bull's with a lazy grin. "Looking at you, _vhenan_." 

"Sassy elf," Bull says, leaning over to kiss him.

They kiss easily, suspended in a kind of timeless haze. Mahanon curls up warm and relaxed in Bull's arms as Bull cradles him close and whispers praise between kisses, pressing every word for love he can think of in the languages he knows into Mahanon's flushed skin.

Eventually Mahanon's breathing sharpens, his kisses becoming more insistent, and Bull can feel the shift in need like a change in the wind. 

"What do you want, _kadan_?" Bull murmurs, kissing Mahanon's forehead and laughing lightly as Mahanon responds with a little growl and yanks on Bull's horns to meet his lips again. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Use your words." 

"Your cock," Mahanon says fiercely, his voice rough and wild and demanding. Bull loves seeing his shy _kadan_ like this, working him up until everything else falls away and he's left with this little wildcat in his bed. "I want you to fuck me, like you said. I want you to fucking _devour_ me, Iron Bull, sink your teeth in me, damn it-"

"Fuck," Bull grunts, breaking into a low chuckle as Mahanon twists out of his arms and starts to tug at Bull's trousers. "How do you frisky elves have so much energy? Easy, sweetheart, let me help you with that-"

He lifts his hips and helps Mahanon yank the trousers off, revealing the stiff length that Bull's been adamantly ignoring all evening. Mahanon wastes no time - the moment the fabric is out of the way he curls over and swallows Bull's cock, choking as the head hits the back of his throat.

"Easy, easy," Bull groans, lying back and spreading his legs to give Mahanon more room. He tugs his leather gloves off and tosses them aside with a lazy motion, pressing his hips up into Mahanon's mouth with a satisfied rumble. "We've got time, _kadan_, just - oh, fuck, yeah, exactly like that. Just like that."

Bull closes his eye with a long moan as Mahanon eagerly sucks him, working his clever hands over the length of Bull he can't take into his mouth. His lips, his tongue - what Mahanon lacked in experience when they first met he always made up for with enthusiasm, and after a year of learning one another's bodies Bull's pretty sure he could die a happy man like this, with Mahanon's plush lips wrapped tight around his cock.

Bull lets himself enjoy Mahanon's mouth for a blissful few minutes, until a delicious swirl of Mahanon's tongue right under the head of his dick has his breath catching with a startled grunt. He'd be more than happy coming exactly like this on any other night, but not now. Not tonight. 

With a sigh of regret, he pulls Mahanon's head up from his lap, kissing the elf deeply before he can protest.

"I fucking love your mouth, _kadan_," Bull whispers, licking at the open seam of Mahanon's swollen lips. "You're so good to me when you suck me, so fucking good. But I distinctly remember you asking me to fuck you tonight."

"_Yesss_," Mahanon moans, climbing Bull and wrapping himself close around him. Both of them groan at the slick catch and slide of skin against skin. "Fuck me, fuck me _vhenan_, I need you inside me, I want you to _claim_ me, please..."

Bull growls low in his throat, already feeling that fever picking up again - no need to temper it now, not when his _kadan_ is begging for exactly what Bull wants too.

Hazy with need, Bull reaches over to the bedside table and grabs the oil, Mahanon still kissing him and writhing against him and making his blood run hot with desire with every squirm. 

"You're mine," Bull growls into Mahanon's pointed ear, slicking his fingers with oil, "and I'm yours." 

Bull quickly slicks up his own cock in a single, rough jerk, then reaches around Mahanon and takes hold of the base of the plug. Mahanon cries out and buries his face in Bull's shoulder, and it feels like an eternity until Bull finally slides the plug free and leaves him empty. 

"Fuck, you're already spread wide open for me," Bull murmurs, tickling the stretched ring of flesh left in the wake of the plug. Mahanon jerks and whines. He soothes Mahanon with a firmer touch, working plenty of oil into his open hole and making him good and slick. "You must be aching from the floggers, _kadan_, and I'm going to be slamming into all those sore spots when I fuck you. I'm not gonna go easy on you."

"_Good_," Mahanon whispers fiercely, pressing back into Bull's fingers with a desperate wriggle. "I want it hard, fuck, I want you to make me scream."

"Mm, that'll be fucking hot," Bull groans, pressing his fingers in deeper. "You gonna let me hear you scream, little elf? No hiding, no covering your mouth, no holding back?"

"Promise," Mahanon gasps, hitching his hips to fuck himself shallowly on Bull's fingers. "Promise I'll scream for you, promise, promise..."

"You'd better," Bull rasps with effort, desire making his mind far too hot for words. "Once I'm inside you, you can come whenever you want, and _believe_ me, I'm not letting you get away with only coming once on my cock."

He removes his fingers and roughly turns Mahanon around, not giving him the time or breath to complain over the loss before he pushes Mahanon down and lifts his ass up by his hips. He manages to keep himself together, body shaking with the effort, until he navigates the tip of his swollen cock half an inch into Mahanon's entrance. Then the fever takes him and he thrusts forward with a gratified snarl, burying himself exquisitely deep in Mahanon, hips smacking into battered flesh as Bull gives himself over to his needs and fucks his elf hard. _His kadan_.

Two thrusts in is all Mahanon can take before he seizes with a shout and releases, coming untouched all over the fancy Orlesian bedspread - a clean-up for tomorrow, and nothing a few flicks of magic can't fix. Bull wouldn't care either way. 

Bull buries a hand in Mahanon's hair and pulls, shifting angles until he's hitting that deep, sweet spot with every thrust. Mahanon is far too oversensitive from his orgasm to take this quietly, crying out with each hard rut. 

"You want me to ease up?" Bull asks roughly. He'll back off if his _kadan _asks, do anything his _kadan_ asks, even if it fucking kills him - which this might, _fuck-_

"_No!_" Mahanon shouts, hands twisting and gripping the bedding as he pushes back into Bull's onslaught with a choked yelp. "Fuck, _fuck, _don't hold back _vhenan_, I'm yours, I love you, more, _please-_"

There just isn't any thinking after that. Just Mahanon, his gasping and begging, praise and curses, his body tight and warm and slick for Bull and so perfect, so fucking good. Bull leans in and hammers harder, harder until he finally hits a perfect angle and forces Mahanon to give up that promised scream. Bull hopes for a wild moment that the silencing sigil has failed completely and that everyone can hear this, hear the sounds he can coax and tease and wring from his _kadan_, hear what they're up to and maybe get flushed with jealousy and lust wondering what it must be like to fuck like this, to have what Bull gets to have. 

Bull loops an arm under Mahanon's chest and hauls him up close, engulfing the elf in his embrace and still fucking him with hard, rutting thrusts, Bull's heartbeat quickening and his blood starting to boil with every stroke.

"Love you," Bull growls, panting, picking up his pace as he feels himself building toward release. Mahanon moans openly at the words, twisting in Bull's arms to take him in as deep as he can. "Fuck, my beautiful little elf, my _kadan_, I love you-"

The rest is Qunlat, Bull thinks, which is fine because Mahanon is keening in ragged Dalish, and it's not so much the words as the sound of one another's desire and the join of their bodies together, and Mahanon is _his_, and-

Maybe it is instinct of some kind, because nothing feels more fucking natural, more _right,_ than biting deep into Mahanon's shoulder as Bull finds his release, spilling into his lover with a hot burst of pleasure and an echoing rumble of deep-bellied satisfaction. Teeth pierce flesh and hot blood fills Bull's mouth, the copper tang on his tongue and in his nose spurring a taste of blood fever that drags another couple of hard thrusts from him, another jerk as his cock spills over again, fuck, _fuck-_

Mahanon's scream is silent, all breath and no voice, but Bull knows he's come again by how he squeezes tight around Bull's cock, wretchedly, torturously tight. Bull's still in some kind of sustained state of need and lust, still thrusting, but he's desperate for Mahanon to know the same pleasure. He finds Mahanon's slick cock and strokes him until Mahanon wails and jerks, another burst, his seed dripping over Bull's fist. Then Mahanon collapses in Bull's arms, completely spent. 

Bull breathes, finding his centre, chasing the serene and satisfied pleasure of his release to cool the blood fever that seems to be spurring him on past his climax. Breathes again, and he releases the bite. There's blood in Bull's mouth and on his teeth and dripping down Mahanon's back and over the elf's shoulder, pooling in his collarbone, and once again it could be something like instinct that compels Bull to lick the wound clean. Mahanon moans as he does, a soft sound, a good sound. 

"Love you," Bull whispers again, and he almost doesn't recognize his own voice - there's a ragged edge to it like he's the one bleeding, like he's been marked too. He eases himself free of Mahanon but is careful to keep holding him close. Mahanon panics if Bull strays too far from him when he's down, especially when he's left empty after a hard fuck. 

Bull always loves this bit, caring for Mahanon as he drifts through the quiet space Bull makes for him, stripped down to a set of basic essential needs that Bull is happy to provide. But tonight there's something different in Bull's drive to look after his _kadan_, something deep and urgent spurring him on that he's not really sure he fully understands. 

Usually not understanding any aspect of his own behaviour would immediately spark cold dread in Bull's heart, but there's no room for that right now. Just warmth. Peace, maybe. Focus. 

Luckily Mahanon is small (so fucking small, honestly, and Bull thinks again about that armour he wants to have made for Mahanon with a sentiment verging on panic - tomorrow's problem, tomorrow's concern), so he's able to keep Mahanon slung in his arms as he gathers the salve and bandages from the bedside and carries everything over to the bath. Mahanon curls in close and wraps his arms around Bull's shoulders, his breath ghosting over the cooling sweat on Bull's skin. The blood is still trickling, dripping onto Bull, onto Mahanon, onto the floor, but there's something so visceral about it that Bull just feels that strange urgency surge in him again at the sight of it. 

By some kind of miracle of Orlesian engineering, the bath is still blissfully hot as Bull eases in, letting himself groan as the heat starts to calm his aches before they can kick up again in the wake of his release. Mahanon's breath hitches and he whimpers as his sore bottom touches the water, but Bull knows the burn will cool in time and lowers Mahanon in regardless. Mahanon whines and his grip on Bull tightens, burying his face in Bull's neck, but he doesn't fight him. 

"Good," Bull murmurs, rubbing Mahanon's back under the water until he calms. "This'll help, okay? Relax."

Mahanon nods, schooling his breathing from shuddery gasps to an even flow. 

Once Mahanon seems at ease, Bull gently shifts him in his lap, just enough so his hands are free and he can see the bite mark clearly. The water takes Mahanon's weight off his seat, but he still sighs a pained groan at the movement.

"I know," Bull says, taking a cloth from a pouch in Stitches' bandage kit. His eye waters and Mahanon's nose wrinkles with a twitch of his ears as the sharp sting of alcohol wafts over them. Stitches developed these pre-soaked clothes for the field, insisting they would save the Chargers from all kinds of skin rots and diseases. Bull believes his healer, of course, but it hasn't stopped the Chargers from giving the stinging clothes the uncharitable name of "little bastards." "I'm gonna rub you down with some elfroot later, make it all better, yeah? Deep breath, _kadan._"

"I don't-" Mahanon's voice breaks and his words pitch sharply as Bull smoothes the cloth over the bite, "-_mind_, I want - I like feeling you, I like..."

Mahanon slips into Dalish again and Bull smiles, putting the cloth aside. 

"I like feeling you too," Bull says, not even fucking sure what he means by that, but knowing that the statement is honest. He takes up the salve and works it between his fingers, gently slathering it over the bite in a thick protective coat. There must be a painkiller in there by the way that Mahanon's frown eases and he sighs. "Good?"

Mahanon nods, eyes slipping closed.

The moment the salve is spread and he can leave the wound to air for a bit Bull relaxes back against the wall of the bath, smiling as Mahanon curls into his usual position - his head tucked against Bull's shoulder, a hand on Bull's chest, nestled in close. They really do fit like this, the two of them. Who would have thought that an elf and a qunari could be so physically complementary with one another. 

Maybe it's less about being made for each other, and more about both of them having an instinct for learning how to fit against one another's curves and angles. 

Bull smiles. He's feeling strange - good, but strange, and so of course he's gonna start getting all soppy about shit. 

Bull leans out of the bath just enough to grab a jug of cool water he placed there beforehand, touching the rim to Mahanon's slack lips. "Get some of this into you. You need it."

For a moment Bull isn't sure Mahanon hears him. Then the elf lifts a shaky hand out of the bath and touches the jug, both of them working together to navigate the tilt so Mahanon can drink. 

"You're always more thirsty than you think you are," Bull says just to say something, as Mahanon just about inhales half the jug. He pulls it away before Mahanon can choke. "That's good, that's real good."

Bull puts the jug aside. 

As Bull settles back into the bath, Mahanon takes his hand. Bull follows Mahanon's guidance, a bit bemused as Mahanon tilts his face to meet Bull's eye and presses Bull's palm to his cheek.

Sometimes when Mahanon's in this state there are things he wants that he can't find the words for, things he needs that he struggles to communicate. Bull searches his open expression for clues, cradling Mahanon's face in the meanwhile, meeting those incredible eyes as that odd urgency builds, that _something _he doesn't have any words for either, only-

Personal futures don't exist under the Qun. Your name is your future, and your name is only a part of a much larger whole. That's one thing.

Bull's been out and about in the world for years, this human dominated world. Marriage: a contract under the law that dictates how your heart should feel for the rest of your days, and often has nothing to do with the heart at all. Elves have a hand-fasting ceremony - hand-_fasting_, binding, all of it lashing you to a future that could change and wither, that was perhaps never meant for you at all. 

Bull's heard sour men complain about their wives and met wives with cold beds and not an ounce of affection for their husbands. Bull was not raised to understand romantic love in any kind of sense beyond a kind of clinical distance, but he can understand in an intuitive sense how making something _permanent_ and _binding_ and _contractual _could strip the heart from the matter. He meant what he said to Mahanon all those months ago. Bull loves him. Mahanon is his _kadan_, a choice Bull makes every day, and there's flexibility in that choice. Bull doesn't see it changing. 

It's not a contract. It's not a hand-fasting. It's not something binding or contractual. But Bull sunk his teeth in Mahanon's flesh and something is _different_ now; no, not different. Settled. No, Bull doesn't have the fucking words. 

All Bull knows right now is that the concept of choice is fucking complicated, and there's an elf in his arms who's given him everything, continues to give him everything. And maybe the urgency is that Bull's life feels like it's expanding in front of him, those heady stupid daydreams starting to solidify into something far more tangible. 

It's all still so new and complicated, and the Qun is a lingering chain, but maybe that urgency Bull's been feeling since tasting Mahanon's blood in his mouth and marking him is... certainty. Not permanence, permanence is a concept Bull can't see himself ever really holding to. But certainty that goes beyond the day to day. Certainty that he and Mahanon could build something together, weave their lives into something completely different from the paths set to them at birth. 

Mahanon wanted to be marked, and Bull thinks he gets it now. That thudding drive to wrap Mahanon in armour and blankets and praise and keep him safe isn't new, but there's a keen sense of permission about it that _feels_ new. Certainty has expanded Bull's understanding of how deep this love runs in his bones. Mahanon isn't just his to care for _right now_, isn't just sharing his bed _right now_. Bull could keep this. They could keep one another.

Bull said it before, has let himself think it before, but the words have a towering weight to them now that makes them feel dangerous to hold even as an idle thought: _Mahanon is his. _Bull is Mahanon's. Utterly, entirely, and with certainty. 

Wonder and awe aren't really Bull's thing, but it's how he feels meeting Mahanon's gaze, still pressing his palm to Mahanon's cheek and feeling fundamentally different, fundamentally the exact same, fundamentally at ease. 

There should be words for these feelings. Pretty words you could drip in a lover's ear while he's resting in your arms and looking for comfort. All those heartfelt murmurs Mahanon blushes over in his books. 

But Bull just smiles, and after a moment Mahanon smiles back.

The words will come at some point, probably. The main thing is that they have time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> epilogue: mahanon and bull spend all of the next day in bed while mahanon reads and bull like idk feeds him strawberries or something


End file.
